Maybe It's Better This Way
by Ansy Pansy aka Panz
Summary: ‘She couldn’t be…’ Kirsten has some surprises, happy and sad. Mainly Kandy, but partly a Cohen Family et all saga. Very long and long awaited by some! CHAPTER 30! THE END! FINALE!
1. Five Times

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

**Summary:** 'She couldn't be…' Kirsten has some surprises, happy and sad. Mainly Kandy, but partly a Cohen Family et all saga. Very long and long awaited by some!

**Disclaimer:** I own zip, need I say more?

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This wasn't going to be anything like this! It started out as the story on Kirsten's children (meant to be the final shot!) but kind of grew into itself. Maybe it's better this way! Lol! It's pretty mixed in style and stuff because I started it in May 2005 (lol) and didn't write it in order. Goodness knows where it fits in OC time…it's AU in season 2…post Rebecca, sort of post-Carter but not so serious, Caleb's not dead (and always ends up slightly nicer in my fics!) and Kirsten's drinking exists but isn't so all-consuming. Please read and review! Please read and review! (Yes I'm trying to brainwash you!)

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Chapter 1: Five Times

_(Minds out of the gutter people!)_

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The first time she was sick was early on a grey Monday morning. She groaned as she bent over the toilet, the weather was horrible, she felt the same way and there was a potentially huge contract coming in for the Newport Group this week. This meant masses of work, late nights at the office and her father being even more demanding and stressful than his usual beastly self. She could _not_ get ill right now, she couldn't cope with it.

Thankfully, once the bout was over she felt as right as rain and put it out of her mind. It took more than a little queasiness to unsettle Kirsten Cohen.

At least until it happened the next day, and the next.

-----

The following day hadn't started well; they'd both overslept and Kirsten had been woken by her husband's irritated exclamation rather than the gentle kisses she was used to. First she'd snagged her nail on her stockings and laddered one of them, her hair refused to go how she wanted it and downstairs she'd managed to spill hot coffee over Sandy's shirt meaning he had to go change when he was late as it was. From then on the day continued to go downhill; she'd definitely got out the wrong side of bed.

She snapped at Seth, at Ryan, at Clare, her father, Julie, irritating investors, contractors, even Sandy when he rang to see how she was feeling, answering the phone with a curt 'What?' thinking it was Julie ringing back for the hundredth time that day.

What was up with her? She wasn't usually this bitchy. Everything was just getting on her nerves, not least the fact she seemed to have become incredibly clumsy. Pens, folders, cutlery all seemed to be impossible to hold onto. By lunchtime she was feeling stressed and sick, or rather, being sick.

---

There was something profoundly humiliating about being ill at work. The ornate bathrooms in the office didn't seem the place to be puking up your guts, or rather the bagel your husband had carefully sliced and schmeared for you that morning despite being in a hurry. It also made Kirsten feel out of control and undignified, two things she hated. At home it didn't matter she could just be herself, drop the front and be soft for once. At home she had Sandy, the only person in the world who could make her feel better by just being there. He loved her whatever state she was in, tired, crabby, drunk, sick, so there was no need to pretend. Here she had to avoid her dad, hide from Julie and lie left right and centre.

But then again, if she was home she'd still have to lie, little white lies; 'I'm fine,' to Sandy, to Seth, to Ryan. It was better Sandy didn't know, he'd only hound her to go to the doctors. That was the downside of admitting how sick she felt and letting him look after her. Once she crossed the fine line between him thinking she was just tired and actually being ill there was no going back; Sandy would call an ambulance if she as much as sniffled. It was a no win situation.

---

So she struggled through the rest of the day, shooting daggers at anyone who dared disturb the relative peace of her office. She needed some aspirin for this god-awful migraine, a long nap and a hug from Sandy. Actually she'd settle for the latter alone. He was home when she got in, the boys too. The three of them were chatting as they transferred food from take-out cartons to plates and Kirsten paused in the doorway to watch them.

'Save some for your mother,' Sandy was saying, 'she should be in soon…' He glanced up, catching sight of his wife and smiling warmly. 'Talk of the devil,' he joked, drawing her towards the table. Her stomach balked at the idea of eating but she tried, if only so that she could have the large glass of wine she needed after such a day.

Never underestimate the medicinal properties of a good glass of red, she thought as she began to relax. However bad days are bad days until the sun goes down and after dinner, as she was clearing the table, two of the plates somehow slid from her hands, shattered over the kitchen floor.

'Shit.'

Kirsten rested her elbows on the kitchen island and dropped her head onto them, sighing exasperatedly and hurriedly wiping away the hot tears that suddenly sprung from her eyes. 'Sorry, I just…bad day.'

'Don't worry Kirsten, I'll get it.'

Her sons began to clear up the broken crockery while Sandy took one of her hands in his. 'What's the matter hey?'

She shook her head and withdrew her hand, 'I'm pretty wiped out; think I might go soak in a hot tub.'

The fake smile she gave them was pretty obvious but they all pretended not to notice. Each of them had felt the sharp end of her tongue today and it wasn't pleasant. May as well live and let live, for now at least.

-----

Sandy was in the shower the next morning, washing off the salt and sand from his morning surfing session when a fully dressed Kirsten clattered hastily into the bathroom in her heels. Still standing so as not to crease her pristine suit, she ducked her head over the toilet, one hand frantically trying to hold her hair out of the way, the other bracing herself against the wall.

Sandy immediately shut off the water and clambered out of the shower. Throwing on his robe, he approached his wife who had finished being aggressively sick and was now worriedly checking she hadn't marked her clothes. He slid a reassuring arm around her waist and could feel her ribs heave up and down as she breathed deeply.

'You alright baby?' he asked concerned. Kirsten nodded as she rinsed her mouth, spitting violently into the basin when he suggested she stay home.

'Big conference, just nerves that's all,' she told him, smiling and kissing him in quick succession before leaving. He shook his head, since when did Kirsten get nervous about work?

-----

Sandy watched in drowsy contentment as the warm California sunlight filtered through the blinds and played across the soft features of his wife. She lay facing him, a few strands of blonde hair fluttering in her face as she breathed. He reached out and gently tucked them behind her ear, unable to resist pressing a kiss to her lips, even though he knew it would probably wake her.

Kirsten's eyes opened a fraction and then fully as she saw Sandy staring at her. He did that often, just lying there watching her sleep. It was a loving gaze but it still made her feel a little embarrassed sometimes. He'd tried to explain it once;

---

'You're just so beautiful and you look so peaceful. I love watching you, whatever you're doing but this is special; you look…I don't know, just…like, this is you, this is the real Kirsten Cohen. It makes me think how lucky I am, I get to wake up with you every morning and I thank whatever confusion in the space-time continuum made things end up like this.'

'I love you,' she had said, 'and I don't know how I got so lucky; I get to wake up with _you_…some mornings.'

'Is that a not-so-subtle dig at my surfing habits?'

Kirsten giggled, 'Maybe.'

The conversation had then descended into something which Seth swore his parents did not do in any way, shape or form.

---

'Good morning,' she murmured, languidly running a hand over his stubble. Sandy kissed any fingers that came within reach and wondered how she made even yawning so attractive.

'Did I tire you out last night sweetheart?' he asked teasingly, watching as a pink tinge crept across her cheeks and down her throat to fade at the rise of her chest where a few hours ago Sandy had trailed kisses.

She stuck her tongue out, 'I love you.'

'Same here.'

Kirsten snuggled up to her husband, savouring the rare occurrence of waking up with him. Why on earth did the waves have to be best in the morning? Whoever had shared that fact with the surfing world was obviously male and single.

'As much as I would love to stay here like this,' she murmured half an hour later, 'we can't; it's Thursday.'

'So?'

'I have meetings and you have clients.'

'Sod them.'

'Sandy! Is that any way to run a business?'

'It's one way,' he told her, grinning cheekily.

'You're incorrigible.'

'Thank you,' Sandy replied kissing his wife who didn't argue the point any further, letting him tug her closer and intensify the kiss. At least until she felt her insides swirl, and not in the way they usually did when Sandy kissed her. Kirsten tore her lips somewhat reluctantly from Sandy's and rolled out of bed, heading for the bathroom. The sight of his nude wife streaking across the room would have raised a smile if he hadn't been confused as to why she had cut their rather promising make-out session short.

'Honey?'

The answer was the sound of her retching. One of the sounds guaranteed to make Sandy Cohen leap out of bed faster than if he'd just found he was sharing it with Julie Cooper-Nichol. Within seconds he was beside her, simultaneously supporting his wife and reaching up to keep her hair out of her pale face.

'What?' she asked once she was done, twisting round in the sheet Sandy had grabbed from the bed to wrap them both in, and taking in how his blue-green eyes were anxiously studying her face.

'Kirsten…'

'Meetings. Clients,' she reminded him, stalking back to the bedroom with the sheet and leaving him naked. Single word sentences Sandy noted; he wasn't going to argue with her right now.

-----

On the fifth day, as Sandy was holding her hair up again, a thought flashed through her mind.

_Pregnant?_

There was something vaguely familiar, a kind of déjà vu about the pose they held that made her think it. But she couldn't be. She was a thirty-nine year old CFO of a multi-million-dollar company with two seventeen-year-old sons.

This could not be happening.

She had a husband she'd almost lost twice in the past year and a twenty-year marriage that still hung in the balance.

It wasn't possible.

She was on birth control.

But nothing was perfect, she knew that. Kirsten Cohen wasn't perfect, she just appeared that way.

Perfect life

Perfect marriage

Perfect family

She knew the hidden reality, the secrets she'd kept, the façade that was Newport life, the way her father ruled her, who she'd become.

The fights they had over nothing, how close they'd both come to infidelity.

So perfect her two sons had left last summer, her sister moved to Japan and they discovered her father had a secret love-child.

Some kind of perfect.

---

'Kirsten? _Kirsten!_' Sandy's voice filtered into her thoughts and she shook her head. She was being foolish; she'd just eaten some bad Tai or had a touch of the flu, that was all.

'Kirsten?'

'Yes honey?' she said, straightening up.

'You sure you're ok?' he asked, his eyes wide with concern.

'Yes sweetie,' she told him, clambering up from the floor and going to brush her teeth.

He was still stood leaning against the doorframe when she'd finished.

'I really don't think you should go into work today,' he began. Kirsten glowered at him, 'I'm fine.'

'Why do you always say that and I don't believe you?' He asked grinning.

'Because you worry too much,' she said rubbing a hand across her face and drawing his attention to the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Sandy became serious again, 'Really Kirsten, this is the third day in a row and I…'

'Fifth,' she muttered.

He stopped abruptly mid-ramble, 'What? Well…well,' he struggled to get back on track, 'that just backs my decision, if you go to work today and this continues, you're going to the doctors.'

Kirsten sighed, but a glance at her husband's face let her know this was non-negotiable. Sometimes, well mostly to be honest, she could get round her husband, but when it came to her health Sandy switched to full protection mode. Strategically placed kisses weren't going to get her out of this one.

'Fine, fine, but only because I'm running late and don't have time to fight,' she conceded.  
Sandy smiled and leaned in to kiss her 'You wound me honey.'

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I've never got to triple figures in reviews. That's my goal and yours. Get me started on this my longest ever fic – potentially 30 chapters, most of them already written!

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	2. Three Minutes

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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**Hope you enjoy this. LOVING your reviews thank you!

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Chapter Two: Three Minutes

It was two thirty and Kirsten and her father were busy negotiating a deal with two important executives. As she stood up to pass development plans to the clients, Kirsten felt a rush of dizziness and clutched at the boardroom table. Caleb, glancing up from the paperwork, noticed her falter and reached out an arm. 'You alright there Kiki?' he asked worriedly.

'Yes…yes,' she said breathlessly, 'just got up too fast.' Kirsten gave a nervous laugh and sat back down. The meeting continued but Kirsten could hardly concentrate; the pungent smell of the polish from the shining mahogany table, a scent she'd never registered before, had made the sickness from the morning return and it was all she could do to control it. She breathed slowly and let the conversation wash over her. She didn't notice her father calling her name until his tone became sharp, 'Kiki, do you have those figures or not?' Mutely she rifled through her papers and handed him the spreadsheet. She needed to get a grip, ten minutes to go and then it would all be over.

Kirsten struggled through the rest of the meeting, trying not to muddle the statistics of their latest development but knowing she was only vaguely coherent.

Once the executives had been shown out by the secretary, Caleb turned to his daughter. 'What the hell was wrong with you back there Kiki?' her father's concerned act had vanished, 'You hardly said a word, were you even listening? They're important clients; I don't know what you were thinking…'

Caleb trailed off as Kirsten fled to the adjoining bathroom. He heard the sound of retching and then running water. Kirsten appeared a moment later looking blanched and tired. 'Yeah dad? What were you saying?'

Her father looked slightly shamefaced, 'I didn't realise you were sick.'

Still couldn't manage an apology, thought Kirsten, 'I'm fine,' she told him trying to make her stomach listen to her.

'Well you don't look it. Take the rest of the day off.'

Rest of the day? It was almost three thirty. She may as well finish the day now.

Kirsten began to protest but Caleb ignored her, resting a consoling hand on her shoulder for a minute before striding off. 'Afternoon off,' he called as he left, 'that means you are _not_ to take those files home; we have the Waterman conference next week and can hopefully wind up that deal, don't want you sick then.'

She frowned and sighed, it seemed like she was losing to everyone today, next thing she knew she'd be giving in to Seth.

-----

Kirsten didn't go straight home after leaving the office. She sat in the car until the nausea subsided and then drove a couple of miles out of town to buy a pregnancy test. Newport wasn't exactly the best place to keep a secret.

It would be negative, she thought, it had to be. But she just had to check.

---

She hated the fact you had to ask for tests over the counter and the way other customers pretended not to be watching, hated how the cashier took forever, dragging out the embarrassing process. She shouldn't be embarrassed; this wasn't like the other time.

Times.

She wasn't the young girl scared someone would recognise her, positive the woman behind the till was judging her, terrified that this could be even happening.  
She wasn't the young girl, a little older, feeling exactly the same, wondering how this could be happening again.

She was Kirsten Cohen, married and successful.

It didn't make her feel less conspicuous.

She was almost forty, she had two teenage boys and a high-pressure job.

Stood in the chemists trying to be nameless and faceless Kirsten felt very insecure.

---

Back home she listened to her messages, tidied the pool-house, (which was particularly unnecessary in light of Ryan's neatness) re-folded a pile of laundry left by Rosa, dusted the photographs in the family room and watered the flowers on the table; anything to put off taking the test.

Three minutes later she was sat on the side of the bath looking at it.

_Negative._

She'd known it would be but she couldn't help feeling a slight disappointment alongside her relief. She shook her head; she was being silly. She stood up, stuffed the test into the trash and hid the box containing the second test at the back of a drawer.

She felt fine now; she needn't have bothered taking it. It was simply the virus that was going round, that was all.

-----

Sandy drew up outside the house, pressing speed-dial two on his cell as he skipped up the steps. Kirsten answered and he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder as he unlocked the door. 'Honey where are you?' he asked anxiously, not waiting for an answer before continuing; 'I rang work and they said you'd left, but you didn't pick up at home and I had to go back into court before I could try your cell. Are you ok?'

'I'm fine,' she told him, smiling at his concern. She heard the front door open and froze, 'Where are _you_?' she asked breathlessly.

'I'm at home, just walked in, more importantly where are you?' Sandy replied impatiently.

Kirsten sighed in relief, moving to the kitchen doorway where she could see Sandy striding into the lounge loosening his tie, 'I'm in the kitchen sweetie,' she said, her voice full of laughter.

Sandy swung round, a look of complete shock on his face. 'I'm going to hang up now,' he told her shamefaced.

'So court let out early huh?' she asked once he'd joined her in the kitchen. He nodded shrugging off his jacket. Kirsten reached up to undo his top button and he ran his hand down the side of her face. 'How're you feeling now gorgeous?'

She shivered at the tender gesture and leaned in towards her husband. 'Much better.'

'Not sick?'

She shook her head.

'Not headachy?'

'No.'

'Not tired,'

'Not at all,' she murmured running her hands through his wild hair.

'Well in that case…' he said, scooping her up and setting her on the counter-top. Kirsten giggled and grabbed his tie to pull him towards her. Sandy didn't resist and tilted his head towards hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Their lips met and they lost themselves in the kiss, not hearing the front door open or the boys traipsing down the hall. Seth appeared in the doorway and gave a cry of horror.

'Hey-er…EW! Oh God, oh God, oh God!'

His parents broke apart abruptly and a blushing Kirsten slid off the kitchen surface. Seth had his eyes closed and was breathing heavily, 'Okay, calm, take deep breaths. D-e-e-p breaths. It's ok, it's all gonna be ok.' Ryan hit him on the arm and turned to his foster parents, 'We're going out…to the pier and the Bait Shop, we'll be back around eight.'

'Make it ten,' a sheepish Sandy told them, extracting some change from his pocket.

Seth grimaced but grabbed the money; 'Thanks dad, but you needn't be that obvious!'

Kirsten flushed again, 'Take your phones,' she called after them.

'Yeah, yeah,' she heard Ryan's voice floating back down the hallway, 'like you'll be calling us!'

Sandy chuckled but noticing his wife's face, tried to stifle it. 'Oh come on honey, you've got to admit that was funny.' He snaked his arms back around her waist and began to place kisses on her neck. Kirsten smiled and arched into him. 'I love you, you know.'

'I know,' he said, flashing her his cocky-boy grin. 'I love you too.' She turned in his arms to meet his lips and locked her arms around his neck.

'You know what?' he teased, fielding her attempts to kiss him.

'What?' she asked as their noses brushed together.

'I love you just as much without your shirt!'

'Sanford Cohen!' Kirsten shrieked.

'What?' he asked, his voice low and rumbling in his chest 'You know it's true.'

'Well in that case…ditto.'

Needless to say, the shirts didn't last long.

-----

The next morning Kirsten reached out to find Sandy's side of the bed empty. She couldn't complain; she'd spent the entire night (plus most of the preceding evening) in her husband's arms and after surfing he'd come back upstairs and wake her with a kiss.

If the sickness hadn't woken her first. She rolled over but it didn't subside, damn, she thought she'd kicked this thing.

Suddenly another thought hit her. Crawling out of bed she rummaged in her top drawer, drew out the pregnancy test and read the printed information on the back of the box.

_For most accurate results, take test on a morning when pregnancy hormones are most concentrated. Tests done later may display a false negative._

_False negative_

No. She was taking this too far. But before she could argue any further she was forced to rush for the bathroom.

When the bout was over she leant back against the bathtub and fidgeted with the box. Why was she thinking like this? It wasn't going to happen. Did she even really want it to?

Secretly she guessed she did. They'd never planned to only have Seth, it just ended up that way. First her mother had gotten sick and between dealing with her grief, Hailey and Seth there didn't seem to be the time. After that she'd always been working and they'd let it go, now they had Ryan; their family was complete.

At least that's the story she liked to believe, what Sandy believed. He had no idea what could have been.

Kirsten stopped herself. She wasn't thinking about this right now.

She knew that given the chance to have another child she wouldn't say no, not this time.  
She was older and wiser now.  
A lot older, she reflected, but not a hell of a lot wiser.

Taking a deep breath and trying to stop her hands shaking, she took the test, setting it on the basin while she waited. However, before the three minutes were up she was back on her knees in front of the toilet, which is why she didn't hear her husband's arrival. Morning sickness (if that's what it was) had been a bitch with Seth; it looked like some things didn't change in seventeen years.

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That review button is begging you. Look at it's cute little face, the wee smile, the button nose…how can you resist?

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	3. Eight Weeks

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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I've been nice and posted up two chapters of this because I feel bad posting the beginning and then being away for 3 weeks.

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Chapter 3: Eight Weeks

Sandy was surprised to hear Kirsten up when he returned from surfing. On weekends, the knowledge his wife would still be asleep usually tempted him back to bed afterwards. If last night was anything to go by, she was feeling a lot better.

That's why it was bit of shock to hear gagging coming from their bathroom. He hurried up the stairs two at a time, to find Kirsten doubled over the toilet. A moment later he was sat behind her, sweeping her hair up and running a comforting hand down her back.

'You're going to the doctors, no argument.'

Kirsten didn't reply, simply flushing the toilet before settling back against her husband. Sandy brushed the hair away from her damp forehead, shifting so he could reach the flannel on the basin. As he did so he caught sight of the pregnancy test next to it. He froze and blinked before turning to look at his wife. 'Kirsten…are you…?'

She swallowed, 'I…I'm not sure. It just occurred to me as a possibility yesterday but I took one yesterday and it was negative but then I realised it might be wrong because I took it yesterday afternoon so I did it again this morning but I haven't had chance to look at it yet so I don't know whether I am or not…' Kirsten's voice faded as she ran out of breath. She insisted rambling was a Cohen trait but Sandy figured Seth's particular gift must have had some help from her side of the family too.

Sandy put his arms around her. 'It's okay sweetheart. Calm down!' He waited for her breathing to slow a little. 'Now, shall we take a look?'

She eyed him anxiously, finally nodding. He relaxed his embrace and she moved to pick up the test, not looking at it till she was safely in her husband's arms again.

_Positive._

_Positive._

_Positive._

She couldn't stare at the pink line long enough. It was almost too hard to comprehend.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant again, with their second child. Third, to count Ryan.

Pregnant for the third time.

Kirsten's expression changed as she became lost in thought.

Third time. Fourth child.

He or she would have been one of four. They would have been a family of six.

If…

If she hadn't…

But then again…

It might not have…

Things would have…

She couldn't have then.

And now? Could she now? Part of her screamed no. All the fears, the insecurities and the pain flooded to the surface.

But part of her, admittedly the smaller part at first, said yes, whispered it and despite the rising fear and nausea there was a pique of excitement.

Sandy shook her arm gently, 'You alright babe?'

'It's just…a shock I guess,' she said, her eyes coming back into focus.

He watched her face closely, 'You sure you're okay? You want this right?'

She smiled at him, seeing the grin he was trying to hide and the excitement making his blue eyes twinkle. She couldn't have said otherwise, even if she'd wanted to. As it was, letting go was not something she would ever contemplate again. She nodded and he pulled her close, 'I love you,' he said leaning in to kiss her.

Kirsten drew back; 'We're not kissing right now however much you love me, it is far too gross, I need to brush my teeth!'

Sandy laughed, 'Good point,' and let her go.

'I think I might take a shower,' she told him once she was done,

'Is that a hint to leave or an invitation?' he enquired.

Kirsten flashed him a smile as she slid under the spray, 'Take a wild guess.'

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It was almost lunchtime by the time Sandy and Kirsten finally wandered downstairs to find Ryan sat at the kitchen island. 'We do have bowls Ryan!' Kirsten teased as he slid his hand guiltily out of the cereal packet. Ryan looked sheepish and reached for a bowl. A moment later Seth stumbled into the kitchen, one arm shielding his eyes, the other outstretched to help him keep his balance. 'Come on son, it's not that bright in here,' Sandy joked from where he was leaning against the countertop, one arm around Kirsten. 'That is _not_ the reason,' Seth told him expressively, 'Ry, is it ok to look? Please tell me they're a safe distance from each other!'

His brother rolled his eyes and shot him a 'look'.

'He just gave me a look didn't he?' Seth questioned, peeping through his fingers, 'How am supposed to gain the relevant and vital information if I can't see it? Whoa mom you're in dangerously close proximity to dad, move away ok, m-o-v-e away!' Sandy glared at his son but Kirsten ignored the comment, 'I'm gonna go make that call honey,' she murmured, inclining her head to kiss her husband. Seth groaned and pretended to collapse against the refrigerator, 'Aw sweetie, I love you too,' she said catching hold of him and bestowing a kiss on his reluctant cheek, 'M-o-m,' he cried, pulling away. She laughed and walked out, ruffling a hand through Ryan's hair as she passed.

'Is mom ok?' Seth asked once she'd gone out to call the doctors.

'She hasn't been feeling too good the past few days,' Ryan chipped in causing Sandy to glance at him. That kid was definitely observant, and intuitive.

'I was referring more to the excessive display of affection we witnessed this morning,' his other son announced, grabbing a bagel from the basket.

Chalk and cheese thought Sandy, chalk and cheese.

'But she's been tired and sort of…distracted, is she ok?'

'Granddad's probably being a bitch at work,'

Sandy knew he should probably reprimand Seth for talking about Caleb like that but couldn't find a reason to. He grinned, 'Don't let your mother hear you say that,' he told them, 'as for Kirsten, everything's fine so don't worry.'

Kirsten breezed back in, 'One-thirty,' she mouthed at Sandy from behind the boys' backs.

'Your mother and I are just popping out for while,' he said, helping Kirsten into her jacket, 'we'll see you later.'

The two boys nodded and then ducked as Kirsten tried to repeat her kissing tactic.

Seth glanced across at Ryan, 'Something is definitely up,' he declared.

-----

'What are we going to tell the boys?' Kirsten said anxiously.

'Well I think despite Seth's firm belief in it, they're really too old for the stork story!' Sandy quipped, laughing as his wife stuck her tongue out at him.

'Fine, how are we going to tell them? When?'

They were wandering down a mostly deserted beach having just had Kirsten's pregnancy confirmed. Every so often Sandy's hand would drift across her stomach and his smile grew, if possible, a little wider.

---

'_Congratulations. Kirsten, you're approximately eight weeks pregnant_.'

Eight weeks. _Eight weeks_? That was crazy. She hadn't thought it would be that much. It surprised her she hadn't realised, suspected something earlier; with Seth she'd known almost at once. But that was seventeen years ago, she reminded herself. These days she was busy, stressed, she didn't have the time to keep track and it wasn't exactly something she thought about. But still, she felt a little guilty; _eight_ weeks was a long time.

Eight weeks. Only another thirty-one to go, Sandy thought, already fast-forwarding ahead. Or less if this baby was anything like Seth.

---

'When?' he asked, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her forehead, 'I think soon,'

'I just…don't want to jinx it Sandy,'

'They know something's going on though. Ryan will guess soon I'm sure; he has the senses of a cat. How about we tell them, just them and make sure they keep it quiet?'

'Seth is going to go crazy,' Kirsten muttered, nodding at his suggestion.

'You bet,' laughed Sandy, 'tangible proof of every teenager's nightmare!'

She giggled at that. 'He's going to say we're too old isn't he?'

'Probably,' Sandy agreed. He watched as the thought flashed across her features before she spoke. 'We're not are we?'

'No way beautiful. We're not too old. Hey, we're not even old! We can do this, you can do this. You're a wonderful mother.'

Kirsten looked sceptical. 'I'm not that great; I made Seth live here when he hates it, I'm never home enough, I'm always at the office, I tried to make up for it by giving him things, turned into one of _those_ mothers and still he wasn't happy. Before Ryan came he hated me, we didn't have a relationship and now I don't want him to think I don't love him.'

'Honey, honey stop,' Sandy insisted, 'He knows you love him. You're there when they need you. I admit you do get wrapped up in work but you're a good mother ok?'

'You're a better father,'

'I just have a gift,' he teased.

'I'm worried about Ryan,' she said suddenly. 'He's just got settled again, I hate to be the one to mess things up.'

'I understand what you mean but you're being silly,' her husband told her, 'you can't blame yourself and anyway there's no need to.'

Kirsten nodded, 'I just don't want him to feel unwanted.'

'I know, but we'll work it out okay? I promise. We'll talk to him, let him know he's part of this family now and there's no getting out, force him to understand if we have to.'

They continued walking and deciding the best way to break the news to their sons until the sound of Sandy's cell phone interrupted them.

'Where are you guys?' Seth's voice filtered out as he answered, 'You've been gone hours. You insist Ryan and I have our phones on 24/7, ground us if we miss curfew by, like, 3 seconds, and only just restrain yourselves from getting us electronically tagged…'

'Seth,' his father tried to interrupt the tirade,

'And you two! Disappearing off this morning, not so much as a whisper of where you were going, not answering your phones, it's hypocrisy, that's what it is!'

Kirsten tugged at her husband's arm, 'Let me talk to him.'

'The Kirsten wants a word,' he said handing her the phone.

'Seth honey, are you okay?'

'Yeah mom, we're fine. Apart from the fact we're starving to death here, Ryan won't let me order until he knows if you want anything.'

'Well tell him not to bother, we'll be home in half an hour and then we'll make dinner.'

'I hope by that 'we' you mean dad,' Seth said bluntly.

Kirsten glared at the phone and passed it back to Sandy who was laughing, 'You've got to stop ragging your mother about her cooking,'

'Aw dad, what's the fun in that?' his son whined.

'I know but I did so you have to! Fire up the grill, set the table, pick a movie and we'll have a family night in. See you soon,' he rambled quickly before Seth could argue.

'Uh-oh,' Sandy heard him say to Ryan before he hung up, 'Dad's threatening a full-scale casa-Cohen evening. What d'you reckon's going on?'

-----

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OK I just want to reassure those of you who might be really turned off by the fact that Kirsten IS actually pregnant. This won't be an endless fic detailing every minute of her pregnancy and bla bla bla and it's also not just about how Seth and Ryan cope with the news (although of course that comes into it!) there is more to this than meets the eye (I hope anyway. Not wanting to sound immodest!) so please stick with it if you can!

I'm promising…and will provide tens of thousands of words worth of Rebecca and Carter free Kandy! All I ask in return is a review now and then…do we have a deal?

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	4. Ten Years

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

---  
Here I am again. Seriously guys I love you. I'm blown away by your fantastic responses to this fic. I'm so happy you're enjoying it. And yes there will continue to be lots of Kandy moments, family moments and stuff about the past, ie. the abortion storyline!

---

Chapter 4: Ten Years

'What's going on?' Ryan asked as he and Seth, finally awoken from their play-station battle by the smell of cooking, emerged from the pool house and approached Sandy who was stood at the grill.

'I'm making fajitas.'

They both rolled their eyes. 'Da-ad,' Seth whined.

'Everything's fine boys.'

'You said that this morning and we didn't believe you then so spill.'

'Everything is fine,' their mother added her two-cents worth.

'We're supposed to believe that?'

'Yes,' Kirsten said, frowning as the three of them subtly moved to stand protectively around the grill. 'At least until we've eaten…or rather, you guys have eaten, I think I'll pass on the fajitas honey; suddenly not so hungry,' she murmured, the smell of the cooking meat making her feel decidedly sick. She gave her sons a quick smile and beat a hasty retreat.

'Are you sure she's ok?' Ryan asked, 'I'm kinda worried; The Kirsten's never sick.'

'It's nothing to worry about,' Sandy told them, grinning at his wife who was inside setting the table and hummed to himself. Seth gave his parents consecutive disgusted glances, 'Not feeling reassured, really not feeling it.'

---

'You not gonna eat anything?' Sandy asked his wife anxiously, following her round the table, his voice lowered so the boys, who were now in charge of the grill, couldn't hear him. She smiled at his concern, 'I just want a couple more hours without being sick.'

'Fair enough.'

'Look, if it makes you feel any better I'll have some milk…and Dr Pepper.'

'What? Not _together_?'

'Why not? I just really feel like it.'

Her husband shook his head, laughing. 'Here we go again, with Seth it was Tapioca pudding.'

'Don't mention it,' she moaned, putting a hand to her stomach.'

'But you love that stuff.'

'Well I don't now,' Kirsten snapped. 'Wait!' her face fell suddenly. 'Does Dr Pepper have caffeine in?'

'Um…I'll check.' Sandy retrieved a can from the fridge and squinted at the information printed on the can.

_FLAVOURINGS: TRACES OF CAFFEINE_

'Yeah,' he told her.

She pouted looking disappointed. 'Ok, so I can't have coffee and _now_ I can't have Dr Pepper. I'd forgotten about the downside of all this.' She looked like she was about to cry.

Here we go. Sandy thought, thinking of how emotional she'd been when pregnant with Seth.

'What about iced-tea and milk?'

'No.'

'Ginger beer?'

'_No_!'

OK, now she was getting stroppy, he fought the urge to run back to the grill. 'Well…it only has traces of caffeine…'

'I shouldn't.'

'…and if you're diluting it with milk.'

Kirsten smiled, the tears dissolving from her eyes. 'I shouldn't really…' she repeated but she was already reaching for a glass. 'Maybe just this once.'

Sandy sighed with relief as his wife mixed her disgusting drink and sipped the beige liquid with delight. 'Try some,' she offered.

'Da-ad, think the fajitas are done,' Seth yelled from the patio. Sandy had never been so grateful to his first-born.

'What're you drinking?' Seth asked, wandering into the kitchen with the food.

'Uh…it's…'

'Some sort of detoxifying drink,' Sandy filled in quickly, 'now personally I wouldn't drink anything recommended by any of the Newpsies, particularly Taryn Kelsey.'

The boys laughed and Kirsten flashed her husband and appreciative smile before they sat down to eat.

---

Seth turned to Ryan, 'I think the mystery is about to be resolved,' he said expressively. Kirsten glanced at Sandy and took a shaky breath; he reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it. 'We're expecting a baby,' she said.

Silence.

For once in his life Seth Cohen was actually speechless.

'B-b-bu..sh..pt..ch...wh-_what_?' he finally managed to pronounce.

'I'm pregnant,' Kirsten told him, eyeing her two sons anxiously.

'Too much information,' Seth groaned. 'I do not even want to _think _about how that happened…ugh…too late; I already have.'

'Shut up Seth,' Ryan muttered.

'I know it's a shock, but it's gonna be ok. Things are gonna change but some things won't. I love you, your dad loves you,' Kirsten told them, her fingers twisting her wedding rings agitatedly and her big blue eyes pleading with them not to be upset.

'You're our sons, _both_ of you. This baby should not be any reason to feel less wanted, less loved,' Sandy continued.

Ryan took a shaky breath, 'That's great news,' he said trying to interject some conviction into his voice.

Sandy eyed his sons. 'Thanks Ryan. You okay Seth?'

'I can't believe you two would…' he burst out, biting back the tirade as he saw two tears hit Kirsten's plate. 'I just…need a minute to get my head round it,' he said storming out of the room.

'Yeah, me too,' said Ryan, getting up and heading to the pool house.

Sandy met Kirsten's worried eyes and could tell she was itching to follow them, he smiled reassuringly. 'Give them a little while honey, it took us all afternoon!'

Kirsten bit her lip, 'Fine, half an hour and then I'm going to go check…I…can't have them leave again Sandy.'

He tightened his arms around her as he thought of last summer, 'They'll be fine, it's just a surprise.'

'You can say that again!'

-----

'Can I come in?' Kirsten asked before she stepped into the pool house.

Ryan nodded but didn't move from where he was staring out across the ocean.

'This doesn't change what you mean to us Ryan,' she said quietly, aching to put an arm around him but afraid the gesture would be rejected.

'I understand if it does.'

'No it won't. I know we're not your real family and I don't know if Sandy and I can ever be your 'parents' but we see you as a son. You're Seth's brother as well as his best friend and I want this baby to have two big brothers.'

'Big brothers huh?'

'Yeah, like Trey was to you.'

'And he was the model brother.'

'Ok, maybe that wasn't the best example.' Kirsten backtracked looking flustered. 'I just meant, teach him or her things, look out for them, you know. I want you to be a part of this.'

She watched as her foster son continued to look steadfastly in the other direction. He wanted to believe Kirsten but he just couldn't. This was too big. This baby obviously meant a lot to her. A Cohen by birth, her own flesh and blood. And blood ran thicker than water…or at least thicker than ink and that was all that tied him to the Cohens legally. But does blood run thicker than love? What Ryan hadn't thought of was the emotional connection.

Kirsten paused, not sure what else to say. 'I'm sorry that things had to change when everything was just going back to the way things were…' Ryan half-smiled as Kirsten unconsciously used the same words as Seth. She looked worried he thought, worried about him. It was a strange feeling.

'I know better than to say 'if you need to talk' but we Cohens do love it, even those by-marriage pick up the habit, so if you do, I'll listen.' She turned to go. 'Or even if you just want a companionable silence…I'm here.'

'Thanks,' Ryan said, hesitating before continuing, '…and Kirsten?'

'Yes sweetie?'

'I'm happy for you.' His foster mother smiled and taking a chance she leaned forward and hugged him for a moment. 'Me too but I want you to be happy as well.'

-----

Kirsten knocked hesitantly on her son's door. There was no sound of weird emo music; a good sign. Pushing it open she found Seth sprawled across his bed, Captain Oats on his chest. They were obviously deep in conversation.

'I just…came to see if you were okay…' she began.

'Yeah mom I'm just peachy, not shell-shocked by the bombshell you just dropped at all,' he answered sarcastically.

Kirsten perched on the side of the bed, 'You always wanted us to have another child,'

'When I was like, six and that was a big brother to stop me getting my ass kicked.'

'Don't say 'ass' Seth,'

'The position of brother has been filled, kinda late, but Ryan fits the job description.'

'What about a sister?' she ventured and received a incredulous look,

'No, no way is this baby being a girl.'

'Well I'm sorry to break it to you but there's a fifty percent chance it could be!'

Seth frowned, 'I just don't understand why. Why you want another child now. I like it just us. What's wrong with me and Ryan? Are you trying to replace us because in a couple of years we'll be going to college? Plus, babies are so…ew. And I mean…not being insulting, but aren't guys a bit old for this? Why would you even want to?'

'It just happened Seth, okay? Look, I'm sorry you feel like this…' Kirsten stopped, looking defeated. This was all such a stupid mistake, now she was going to alienate her son with a sibling ten years too late. She, who knew what it was like being a teenager with a baby sister, was doing the same thing to her kids. She really was turning into her parents, something she swore would never happen.

Seth didn't reply and she was about to leave when he sat up and flung his arms around her, 'You needn't be sorry,' he mumbled, noticing the devastated look on his mother's face, 'I should be a nicer brother.'

'You and Ryan are going to be the best big brothers, perhaps you could go convince him of that, I didn't seem to do so well.'

'Consider it done…so what _were_ you drinking tonight? Dad was _so_ lying for you.'

'Um…Dr Pepper and milk.'

'Eww mom, pregnancy cravings or what?'

'With you it was Tapioca pudding.'

'Ah puuuuuding!' Seth breathed rapturously, 'I always knew there was a reason I loved that stuff.'

-----

'So-o, mom and dad having a baby. Weird huh?' Seth said, flopping down on the pool house bed next to his brother.

Ryan didn't say anything.

'I see, the Ryan Atwood silent treatment. It's those two in there you should be doing this to,' Seth declared 'They're the ones who couldn't control themselves and have now foisted a sibling on us!'

More silence.

'Are you gonna talk or am I gonna have to babble to myself all night? This is big Ry, this is freakin' huge; if you don't start talking I could go on for hours!'

'Your mom said it wasn't gonna change things,' Ryan began slowly, 'but it will, I mean, it's a baby, a member of your family…'

'_Our_ family Ryan,' Seth said quickly, realising what his brother was thinking.

'But…'

'You can say it Ryan but it doesn't mean anything. You're a Cohen in everything but blood. This kid is gonna be your brother…or sister…eug I hope not!'

'You sure your parents will still want me here, you know…?'

Seth's eyes nearly popped out of his head; 'RYAN! Are you crazy? Of course they do, to be soppy about it they love you, they want you here. _I_ want you here. Think what happened when you left; mom was distraught, she and dad nearly fell apart and I tried to sail to Tahiti in a dinghy. We don't just want you man, we _need_ you!' He leapt up dramatically, 'And so ends the impassioned speech by the infamous Seth Cohen.'

Ryan was studying his fingernails. 'Thanks bro',' he mumbled.

'Anytime, now let's go find the parentals; I'm thinking Cyril is sounding a rather spiffy name for this unfortunate child and I just _have _to see their reaction!' They were half way out the door before Seth stopped suddenly, 'Did I just say _spiffy_?'

-----

'For the record, it is totally gross that you guys still, you know…but in a way I think the baby thing's kinda cool. Another minion to mould!' Seth declared, leaning against the kitchen counter as they made popcorn and rubbing his hands together evilly.

'Don't talk about your brother or sister like that,' Sandy chastised. 'You alright Ryan? You're not saying much.'

'Since when does he ever dad?'

'I just don't know how good a big brother I'll be.'

Kirsten smiled, 'If that's all you're worried about we'll be fine. I think you'll be wonderful.'

'I can't believe you're thinking about _that_! There is so much more to this weird and wonderful development in our lives. Mom and dad are gonna be totally distracted, we'll get away with murder. Think of the possibilities Ryan, just think…' Seth trailed off, a look of pure ecstasy on his face.

Sandy raised his abundant eyebrows at his son, 'I am going to pretend I didn't hear that.'

As he spoke there was a muted bang from the microwave. Kirsten leapt towards Sandy as the boys began laughing. 'You boys go figure out how to work the DVD while I rescue the popcorn from your mother,' he said, shooing them out of the kitchen.

'Mom, I think you need medical help;' Seth called back, 'it's popcorn, how can you go wrong with _popcorn_? Popcorn Ryan, popcorn! You just put it in the microwave and wait till it pops.'

Ryan gave him a 'look', 'Now you're just talking for the hell of it aren't you?'

'Yeah, but come on, _popcorn_!'

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A review is a wonderful thing. They lift us up where we belong. All you need is a review.

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	5. Acting Nineteen

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Even though I've written most of this really suggestions are still very welcome.

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Chapter 5: Acting Nineteen

The next few weeks passed excruciatingly slowly. Kirsten knew that the baby was growing at a great rate but it was imperceptible. Every minute that ticked past brought them away from the danger zone but time just didn't move fast enough. She longed for visible signs of pregnancy and the flutters inside her as the baby moved but these were a long way off. If it wasn't for the doctor's assurances she could almost believe this baby was an illusion and her constant sickness, fatigue and appetite all caused by something else.

---

Some things were still the same; as of the moment she was still working full time and each morning she'd be there at the counter watching her boys with the same fond smile. But her coffee was now decaf, breakfast usually non-existent to try and limit the sickness later on and extra concealer applied beneath her eyes to hide the blue smudges that had settled there. Sandy's morning kisses were, if possible, more tender and his hand would always slide down to her waist, resting against the almost invisible rise of her stomach. Seth's complaints didn't deter them and even these had become less frequent as he resigned himself to the fact that seventeen years of complaint had failed to prevent the current circumstances. As for Ryan, he just liked to see his foster parents being affectionate; it was a far cry from the abusive, drunken fights he'd witnessed in his childhood.

-----

The biggest change was Ryan moving into the house. One evening, obviously at his wife's demand, Sandy broached the subject to a startled Ryan.

'B-but why?' he asked.

'You're family and family stay in the house,' Kirsten declared.

Seth smiled evilly, 'Except Aunt Hailey,' he put in.

'Yeah well, that's because…well because it's…'

'Hailey.' Sandy finished for her.

'Yeah,' Kirsten agreed, 'but Ryan's not Hailey so he can have a proper bedroom.'

Her second son looked up nervously, 'I really don't need…'

'Don't worry Ry,' Seth said with a knowledgeable air, 'mum's just hormonal.'

'I am _not_ hormonal,' Kirsten said crossly, huffing as three sets of brows were raised in front of her. 'Fine, I am, a little. But that doesn't mean Ryan's not moving in. He should have been in the house months ago, I just never thought about it. I'm sorry Ryan.'

'Kirsten it's ok, I…'

'You don't want to?' she asked, her voice quavering.

'I didn't say that,' he said quickly, realising Kirsten was about to cry.

'I just thought…' she began, hurriedly wiping away the tears snaking down her cheeks. Damn hormones, Seth was right.

Ryan looked nervously at Sandy; he'd never meant to make Kirsten cry.

'Hormones,' Seth mouthed and received a sharp kick on the shin from his brother. 'Ow, that was mean, that was underhand…'

'No it's ok,' Kirsten cut in, 'Seth's right, as much as I hate to admit it. What I meant Ryan was _would _you move into the house? I want all my boys under one roof.'

He eyed her cautiously, weighing up her words. Meanwhile Seth was spouting advice.

'Say no, babies cry, a lot. They scream in the middle of the night, ruin fabulous dreams of Summer in her bikini…and then without it…' Seth's voice took on a dreamy tone before he suddenly realised what he was saying, coughed loudly and went bright red.

Both Sandy and Kirsten looked slightly sickened but had the sense not to comment; their son would only throw their regular displays of affection in their face. Then he would insist he had been scarred for life at an early age by their antics and declare that the whole reason they were having this conversation was the result of something he did _not_ want to think about but was forced to come to terms with.

'As if you'll even wake up, you'd carry on sleeping if a freight train ran through the house.'

Seth appeared unperturbed by this revelation. 'Ah but I have it on trusted scientific authority that a baby's cries, which incidentally are ten times louder than a pneumatic drill, are of a particular resonance which infiltrate the conscious of a sleeper and wake them.' He stared round at his family with an owlish expression on his face, 'It's true; a special survival mechanism.'

'And what 'trusted scientific authority' was this?' His father asked suspiciously.

'Um…'

'I rest my case.'

'If he does say yes, can I move into the pool house?' Seth, unabashed, asked his parents.

'No.'

'Worth a try. Anyway, back to the issue at hand. What am I gonna do if you move in man? All those nights when the dream team thought I was playing video games in the pool house with you when I was actually…' Seth again realised this revelation was not a good idea and hastily changed tack, 'playing video games in the pool house with you.'

Ryan still hadn't said a word and Seth made a u-turn before his parents could register his last ramble.

'But this is actually pretty good, I mean, now I can wake you for emergency counselling sessions without even leaving the house.'

Ryan groaned, 'You said it was gonna be the baby that woke me up, now you're telling me it'll be you?'

'Well Captain Oats gets very grouchy if he doesn't get his full eight hours.'

'_I_ get grouchy if I don't get my full eight hours,' Ryan muttered under his breath.

'Look Ryan, you don't have to decide now,' Sandy told him, ignoring the angry glance his wife flashed in his direction. 'This is a big thing and rather sudden so take your time. We want you in the house, want you to feel you belong but we understand if you'd prefer to stay in the pool house, have more privacy, a little distance.'

'I-I'd like to think about it, is that ok?'

'Yeah man, come on, we can make a list of pros and cons, rate them and calculate the ratio of positives to negatives,' Seth babbled excitedly.

'Seth,' Sandy said, his tone having the same effect as a restraining hand on his son's shoulder. 'Let Ryan think this through.'

---

So Ryan thought it through. It occupied his thoughts for the rest of the night and most of the next day, much to Marissa's chagrin as it made her quiet boyfriend even more brooding than usual.

'So did you think?' Seth demanded that evening at dinner.

'Seth!' His parents chided in unison.

'It's ok,' Ryan said quietly. 'I have thought.'

'And?'

'Um, well if you really mean it, I'd kinda like to move in?'

'Ryan, of course we mean it,' his foster-father told him as Seth punched his arm excitedly and Kirsten swooped in to hug him. He returned both gestures, the first far more firmly that the other; he was painfully aware of Kirsten's precious, if somewhat minute bump and his track record with pregnant women wasn't great.

'You know what this means?' Kirsten asked, her face alight, 'We get to go shopping!'

Seth cackled delightedly at the look on his brother's face.

'I really don't need anything,' Ryan said quickly.

'Yes we do; furniture, curtains, paint, wallpaper…'

'I'm sure whatever's there now is fine.'

'Uh dude, have you ever been in the spare room next to mine?'

'I dunno.'

'Well it's pink.'

Kirsten got her shopping trip.

-----

It was another warm Californian evening, another worthy cause, another Newport party cleverly disguised as a charity event. Another excuse for the elite of Orange County's society to gossip and drink, another excuse for the kids to have a rave at someone's beach house.

Sandy was no stranger to excuses; he'd used every one under the sun to get out of such events over the years and he thought Kirsten's pregnancy was the perfect cover.

'Come on honey,' he argued, 'You know you don't want to spend another evening with Newpsies, wouldn't you rather stay here, make semolina (Kirsten's most recent craving) and let me massage your feet.'

'That's blackmail Sandy,' his wife told him, trying very hard not to think about how appealing his offer sounded. Mingling amidst the rich and fabulous (and stupid) all evening was going to be wearing. Kirsten might be rich but she wasn't feeling particularly fabulous at the moment; she hadn't reached the 'glowing' stage yet apparently stuck at 'tired, fractious and being-sick-ever-minute-of-the-day' and of course she certainly wasn't stupid.

'We have to go,' she insisted as she tied her husband's tie, 'or people will talk.'

'Let them talk.'

'Sandy. If we don't go it'll look suspicious, there'll be all sorts of rumours and someone, probably Julie, will put two and two together, get five and then the cat will be out of the bag.'

'You do talk nonsense sometimes.'

'Oh, I thought that was your speciality,' she teased, closing her eyes as he stroked her hair.

'You look tired.'

'That's because I am,' Kirsten snapped. 'Sorry…I shouldn't take feeling crappy out on you.'

'Don't go,' he urged.

This time he just received a 'look' as she headed out of their bedroom. She didn't need Newpsie gossip about her right now.

---

'How're you feeling?' Sandy murmured into Kirsten's ear, ducking his head so his lips could press a kiss against her golden head as the danced together. She nestled against him, rolling her eyes, 'That's the fourth time you've asked in the space of five minutes, dancing does not count as over-exertion Sandy.'

He chuckled; knowing that the annoyance in her voice wasn't completely real; hormones. Kirsten smiled too but only for a moment, she suddenly didn't feel so good after all. This was just too ironic. The expensive dinner she'd eaten at this exotically themed event hadn't stayed down long and now her empty stomach; breakfast and lunch having been treated the same way, was making her feel a little dizzy. Before she could mention this to her husband however, she'd already fainted.

Sandy felt Kirsten slump against him and automatically tightened his arms around her, stopping her falling to the ground. 'Kirsten?' he asked futilely. He struggled for a moment but managed to lift her limp body into his arms and hurried off the dance floor, followed by wide-eyed stares and hushed whispers.

'Looks like someone overdid it on the cocktails,' one of the Newpsies commented to another.

'_She_ probably had a few before she came,' the woman replied cattily.

'It just goes to show…' said another. Julie, who was sat within earshot, didn't wait to hear the rest of this vicious slander, standing up and stalking towards the balcony where Sandy had carried Kirsten. She thought for a moment about retorting to the idle gossip she'd overheard with a few choice observations of her own. Like the fact that Kirsten Cohen hadn't touched a drink all evening. But she decided against it; if her own suspicions were correct, and having heard Kirsten being sick at the office for the past few weeks she guessed they were, Kirsten wouldn't want the knowledge spreading. It was a well-known fact in Orange County that the fastest way to have everyone informed was to tell a Newpsie.

Julie was a die-hard Newpsie, but she was also a good friend.

Outside she found Sandy bent over his wife who was laid out on a pool chair, still unconscious. She handed him a glass of water and he took it gratefully, sprinkling water onto Kirsten's pale face. She came round a moment later, breathing heavily and her eyes flicking from Sandy to Julie to the night sky above her apparently confused. 'You fainted honey,' Sandy told her gently, 'I asked if you were okay and then you go faint on me. You have to tell me when something's wrong.'

'Sorry,' she whispered in reply, closing her eyes again. Julie glanced at the man next to her whose face still wore a terribly anxious expression, more anxious than necessary for a little fainting fit on an incredibly humid evening for even California. 'She's pregnant isn't she?' she ventured quietly. Sandy Cohen looked startled but nodded,

'At thirty nine and still acting like she's nineteen.'

Kirsten flicked one eye open and directed a glare at her husband that was no less meaningful for its single status. Sandy ignored it, handing her the glass of water and instructing her to drink it. Julie turned to go but Kirsten caught her arm.

'Julie…?'

She knew what Kirsten was going to say so pre-empted her, 'I won't say anything,' she promised, suddenly realising how hard things must be for Kirsten sometimes; a very private person trapped in this very public society.

-----

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Yeah I know everyone makes Ryan move into the spare room and its pink…but I wanted to do it! Hope my version has some intrinsic entertainment value! Yay – summer hols! To celebrate I have written three sections today. This is one of them and the other two are later on! Enjoy it and enjoy your summer although it will be over by the time this gets posted and a new one will be starting! Ah well enjoy your day, remember the summer and enjoy the new one. AND I THINK THE DAMN COMPUTER HAS LOST SOME OF THE SECTIONS. NOOO!

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What if I begged…grovelled…maybe cajoled?

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	6. Four Months

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

Chapter 6: Four months

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I have actually done my research but I found people end up having ultra-sound scans at almost any time. It really depends! And the appointments and stuff differ so much between countries etc so I'm just confused. And yeah, they probably wouldn't know the baby's sex with u/s at this point (although it can happen) but CVS or amniocentesis would say to some degree of accuracy. It's early cause of her age ok! Don't get mad!

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The day of Kirsten's first twelve-week scan Sandy was as high as a kite. Leaving the surgery, his wife's hand tight in his own, he couldn't stop talking, rambling on at ninety miles per hour. Kirsten laughed at his enthusiasm, feeling the same way herself but showing it through her bright eyes and wide smile. They reached the car with Sandy still babbling for America until Kirsten pressed a kiss over his mouth. The muffled sound continued for a moment before it was muted completely and Sandy slid his arms round her shoulders, pulling her close.

'I love you.' They grinned at each other as they said the familiar words simultaneously before heading home.

---

'God dad, you'd think you were the one having the baby,' Seth declared as his father rushed into the kitchen brandishing the scan picture and thrusting it at the boys with excited exclamations. Sandy lightly clipped his son round the head, 'Just you wait,' he said. Meanwhile Ryan was studying the grainy picture.

'What do you think?' Kirsten asked, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

'Cool,' he said, hugging her awkwardly. She laughed and turned to her other son. 'Seth sweetie?'

'Yeah mom.'

'The doctor had some results from tests today that you're not going to like.' She watched smirking, as Seth's eyes became very round. 'No,' he shrieked, 'not…not that's it a…' he hesitated, swallowing disgustedly before continuing, '_girl_?' Sandy nodded excitedly and Seth collapsed onto the floor groaning and pretending to have a fit. 'Noooooo! This means Summer will teach her everything she knows about hurting me. Why mom why?'

The rest of his family chuckled at this outburst and Ryan jabbed the squirming figure on the floor with his foot.

'You wanted a girl didn't you?' he asked Kirsten who nodded.

'Not that I don't love both of you but little girls wear pink, they actually _like_ shopping and get excited about Cotillion!'

-----

A couple of weeks later Kirsten was at her desk looking through some plans and endless sheets of figures. Sighing, she flopped back in her chair; she was incredibly tired. The general first trimester exhaustion should have passed by now, perhaps Seth was right; perhaps they were too old. Whatever it was, this pregnancy was really taking it out of her; sleepless nights, early mornings with the sickness that continued throughout the day and more than her fair share of stress at work. Her workload was crazy with a backlog of jobs following her covert slacking over the past six weeks; her vain attempts at being careful over the first few weeks of her pregnancy, the infamous 'danger zone'. She'd delegated and retreated on as much as possible but it had been difficult; the Newport Group had had a number of incoming contracts that she was heading and the initial weeks were always hectic. But things weren't getting any easier. She wasn't coping, she knew that. If her dad found out she was the reason things were so slow at the moment she was as good as fired. And that was what had kept her working extra hard the past few weeks to make sure he didn't figure it out. Now the developments were mid-production she didn't want to let anyone down; it was only a couple of months before she'd have to ease off again. Talk about great timing.

She sat up and pulled her diary towards her and surveyed it judiciously. Actually, if they could finalise the latest deal by the end of the week, and those pesky contractors didn't back out, her part would be almost easy. 'Almost' being the operative word. Still, Sandy would be relieved; he'd been badgering her to talk to her father about her workload for days.

---

'Are you sure you need to go in tomorrow,' he'd asked the previous night, 'you look like a wet-rag, the nicest possible sort, a very beautiful one, but a wet rag all the same.'

Kirsten had sighed, 'I'm fine Sandy, just tired.'

'Have you spoken to your dad yet?'

'No.'

'No?'

'He's been really busy, I've been busier, I'll do it soon.'

'I know you don't want to tell him.'

'It's not that…the Reynolds contract is really important, that's kind of a priority right now.'

'And you two are my priority; you've got to look after yourself.'

'Sandy I am, honest. I've been sensible, I don't rush about, I've avoided my dad. I just need a good sleep alright?'

Her husband didn't look convinced. 'I don't like you being this tired.'

'I power nap and I take long lunch breaks, you know that.'

That raised a smile; lunchtime usually meant Sandy kidnapping his wife for a few hours. It certainly didn't do Caleb's blood pressure any good but as long as Kirsten's stayed low Sandy didn't care.

'What did the doctor say yesterday?' he asked, referring to her latest check-up, the first he'd missed because of an irritating court date.

'That working is fine as long as I don't over do it.'

'And coming in at six or seven at night isn't just that?'

'It's earlier than usual.'

Sandy heaved a sigh. 'Anything else?'

'Um…not really.'

'Kirsten?'

'She was a little concerned, just a little, about our weight gain, or rather the lack of it. The baby's pretty small still and…'

'And you're in your fourth month and barely showing,' Sandy finished for her. 'I don't think you've put on an ounce for weeks.'

'Exaggerate much? Look, it's nothing to worry about really. Dr Marks is pretty confident we'll make it up later on.' Her husband didn't look convinced. Ok he was having to dredge memories from seventeen years ago but he was sure he remembered Kirsten filling out earlier on. She'd been curvy by this time and glowing with health. Now she still looked sick, tired and rather thin. Only her most tailored business suits no longer fit. You certainly couldn't tell at a glance that she was pregnant.

He hadn't said anything else; just let her curl up in his arms. He knew she was being careful, he was simply overprotective, but it didn't mean he wasn't worried.

-----

Thankfully for Sandy's peace of mind Kirsten began to feel better over the next week or so; she was pretty much finished with the Reynolds project as it was handed over to interiors, and the nausea that had dragged on into her second trimester had finally subsided. Even the elusive weight gain had begun; she was going to _have _to tell her father. But not quite yet, right now they were engaged in one of the worst rows they'd had for a long time. A row that had quickly spiralled from its original concept into something bitterly personal.

The pair stood ranged against each other, same angry pose and flashing blue eyes; the similarities were obvious. Father, daughter. Stand off.

Caleb broke the silence, 'Dammit Kiki!'

'_**Don't **call me **Kiki**_,' Kirsten's voice was like ice and her father was momentarily knocked off course.

'What?'

'I _said_ don't call me Kiki

His forehead creased into a frown, 'But…I always call you Kiki…'

'And I hate it.'

'Well this is immaterial right now.'

Kirsten glared at him, ignoring the sudden twinge of pain in her belly, 'No it's not, just because it's about what I want, just because I don't like something you do, don't accept your choices…'

'That works two ways; I don't like some of the choices you've made.'

'Don't bring Sandy into this dad,' she warned, 'it's nothing to do with him.'

'It's everything to do with Sanford.'

'Fine, make this about him, blame it on him again; everything has to be Sandy's fault doesn't it? All his fault when the only thing he has ever done to you is love me,' she could feel herself getting worked up and the pain was intensifying but she couldn't help it; the mocking gaze of her father was enough to rile a brick wall.

'His biggest mistake.'

Her blood pressure was rocketing, she realised, registering how light-headed she felt.  
'Mistake to love me? I can't believe you said that. You who knows a real mistake, a real _error in judgement_. So what's my mistake?'

'Oh I don't know,' Caleb's voice was vindictive, 'Falling in love with him yourself perhaps, getting pregnant, marrying the rogue…'

Kirsten had heard enough, she lunged at her father. Without even realising it he flung an arm up to protect himself and it struck Kirsten as she approached. She reeled backwards, tears forming in her bewildered eyes. Caleb was frozen as she crumpled towards the floor.

A moment later he was knelt beside her, his face pale. She accepted his help and shakily stood upright. Drawing away she leant heavily against the desk, her hair falling over her face and he could hear her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Suddenly the random spasms became an unbearable wrenching cramp and she gasped and doubled over. Please don't let that be a contraction.

Please.

False contractions weren't meant to hurt. This hurt. It hurt a lot.

'Ki-Kirsten?' Her father asked, his voice gravelly with emotion.

She shook her head but he approached her anyway, feeling his cold heart splinter as she flinched away from his touch.

'Kirsten, it was an accident, I didn't think you were so close…I never meant to…'

'Whatever dad,' she wheezed, managing to manoeuvre herself into the chair behind her desk. She cringed and Caleb reached for the phone, shocked by the sudden pain flashing across his daughter's face, 'What's wrong? Oh God Ki- I've hurt you.'

'It's not that…it wasn't you, well it probably was…but…that's not what it…actually…is,' she panted.

'Hospital. Now.' Caleb's panicked voice turned professional.

'No, please…Dad, could you call Sandy?' Kirsten pleaded curling herself up in the chair, '_please?_'

'Yes I'll do it in the car, we're leaving.'

'I can't,' she moaned, struggling as Caleb forced her up, '_need…Sandy…_'

-----

'Ah Caleb, what a nice surprise,' Sandy answered the phone, his voice laced with sarcasm.

'Shut it Sanford,' was his father-in-law's greeting, 'there's something wrong with Kik-irsten, she won't explain…'

'Shit, where are ya'?' he asked, his New York accent resurfacing with the fear pounding in his chest.

'On the way to the HOAG.'

Sandy didn't bother to answer; he was already hurrying towards the door, frantically rummaging in his pockets for the car keys.

-----

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So, this was a bit way-out there but just go with it…please? It's an accident not an attack ok. Cool. Thanks!

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Come on…yell at me!

The review button is just down there.

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	7. One Night

**ngMaybe It's Better This Way**

Chapter 7: One Night INTRO AND RM

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This is what I wrote summer 2005: DAMN DAMN DAMN. The long bit all about the night spent at the hospital is MISSING! It was done after I backed up my computer which is now dead! OH GOD! And then we managed to save the hard drive and a VIRUS had EATEN my OC fics. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Lol! Hopefully the re-write is as good, if not better. My medical facts are actually facts…just rare ones! Honest.

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By dint of some very reckless driving, speeding and red light running, Sandy managed to reach the HOAG at almost the same time as Caleb. With a screech of brakes he parked the car diagonally in the ER bay beside his father-in-law's. He leapt out leaving the keys in the ignition and door wide open. Crawling into the backseat of Caleb's Aston Martin he was deaf to the man's anxious questions and vain entreaties to Kirsten to get out. His eyes and ears were only for his wife who was sat hunched against the expensive leather, hands clenched and her knees tucked up towards her body. Her face was chalky white and her forehead clammy. Sandy felt his heart drop as he saw her; this wasn't looking good.

'Hey honey,' he said, gently stroking her hair from her face. The eyes that had been screwed shut opened and he could see the blue orbs were dark and glassy with pain. 'Oh God Sandy,' she groaned, her bottom lip was bloody where she'd bitten it.

'Let's get you inside.' Sandy slid his arms around his wife, 'Come on sweetheart.'

Kirsten didn't move, tears seeping under her closed lids and writing her tiredness at the sickening pain down her cheeks. 'It hurts…it…hu-r-ts,' she whimpered as Sandy eased her towards him. 'F-f-eel ill-ll…rea-lly ill.'

Definitely a contraction.

Definitely not good.

'M-make it stop,' she sobbed, 'too…too…early...h-hurts.'

'I know baby,' he soothed, 'but it'll be okay.'

He saw the doubt and raw fear in her eyes as she glanced at him and he knew what she was thinking. What if it wasn't? What if the baby wasn't okay? What if she…? Sandy shut the thought out.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered. Sandy pressed a kiss against her feverish temple. 'It's okay,' he said, sweeping her up and out of the car. Kirsten was unable to swallow a moan as the movement magnified the pain. She gave a weak gasp and passed out, lying limp in her husband's arms.

Sandy wasted no time; striding into the hospital, closely followed by Caleb.

-----

The name Nichol did great things at the hospital.

'My daughter Kirsten Nichol Cohen,' Caleb announced at the desk.

'Kirsten…Nichol Cohen?'

'_Yes_, _Nichol_ Cohen as in Caleb _Nichol_. That's who I am and this is my daughter; now find us a damn doctor.'

The response was immediate; senior medics appeared as if by magic and Kirsten was wheeled off amidst a swarm of nurses, two IVs, oxygen mask and blood pressure cuff her latest accessories. 'She was suddenly taken ill, she's in pain and unconscious, that's all I know,' Caleb told the tall doctor as they hurried along a lengthy corridor, before hastily excusing himself to go and make sure the cars were parked. Perhaps Caleb Nichol could actually feel guilt. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to his beloved Kiki. The doctor turned to Sandy whose anxious eyes told him that wasn't all.

'She's pregnant, seventeen weeks. And she's thirty-nine…' he couldn't continue but the man understood.

'We'll do everything we can.'

Sandy nodded, it was a feeble reassurance not aided by the fact that at that moment he was held back with a polite, 'If you could wait here sir,' and left to fill in insurance forms and pace angrily. When his father-in-law found him, his hair was wild from running his hands through it and his temper frayed.

'What the hell happened?'

'We…we were, arguing. We both got mad.'

'And?' Sandy's voice was sharp. The nurses wouldn't tell him anything but now Caleb was back he was sure as hell gonna get some answers from someone.

'I didn't mean to hurt her Sanford.'

'But?'

His face crumpled, 'She came at me, I put my arm out, she was closer than I thought…I didn't hit her…I didn't, I couldn't…'

Sandy clenched his fists and fought the urge to take a swing at Caleb, 'Then what happened?'

'I…my… my arm caught her head…she stumbled, fell. When I got her up she clutched at the desk and then she cried out…she said it wasn't me but it must have been…I hurt her, my little girl,' his voice cracked and he ran a shaking hand across his face.

Sandy had no sympathy, 'God Caleb, this isn't the first time. You've hurt her all these years, taking her for granted, taking advantage, demanding too much, never being satisfied. She's a strong woman but you've been breaking her since she was born.'

The elder man hung his head slightly, it was all true.

'Of course that's all been emotional pain. Now it's physical too, you make me sick.'

'It wasn't…I never meant…'

Sandy stalked away from his hated father-in-law ignoring his protests.

-----

'Hello?' Ryan answered the phone, panicking as he heard Caleb Nichol's voice on the line. He thrust the phone at Seth with a hurried 'It's your grandpa,'

'What? Hey man…no sorry Grandpa, didn't mean you, yeah hi…..what?'

Ryan heard the sudden change in Seth's voice and ducked his head out of the fridge in time to see his features pale.

'What happened? Is she okay? Is it the baby? Is the baby okay? What was it? Is Dad there? Have you seen her?' Seth rambled frantically, oblivious to the silence on the other end as Caleb digested this information. His eldest daughter was pregnant and he hadn't even known. That's how distant he had become. He was her father and her boss and she hadn't told him. That's how much of a father he was, he hadn't even noticed, no suspicions, no guesses, nothing. Then suddenly it dawned on him, a moment of crystal realisation when everything fell into place.

'Shit.'

Pregnant. Was pregnant or had been pregnant? Please God no. This wasn't looking good.

'Grandpa? We'll be right down.'

Seth hung up and turned to see Ryan standing cell phone and car keys in hand, 'It's mom,' he said worriedly.

'I got that, let's go.'

-----

It had been a long night.

They let him pace outside the trauma room knowing the words 'The waiting room is on the floor below,' didn't apply to him. He couldn't sit downstairs on those hard, lurid orange chairs and see the worried faces of his sons begging him to say everything would be alright and not being able to. Sandy didn't like not being in control, not able to fix things. He didn't want his boys to see him fail.

He couldn't lose Kirsten and Kirsten couldn't lose this baby.

The baby.

So unexpected and now so important. Was it crazy to love her already? To be terrified in case she didn't make it.

Was it terrible to make secret deals with God?

He loved his children. He loved his wife.  
He shouldn't have to choose between. He shouldn't think such things. But he was.

As much as he hated to think it, hated himself for daring to wish it, he hoped that the price, if it came to that, would be one life not two.

He didn't hear the hushed whispers of the nurses as they rushed back and forth, their worried faces a blur to the man with his eyes transfixed on the door separating him from everything that mattered in the world, bar the two boys downstairs.

He could barely focus on what the doctors were saying.

Complications, retention, abruption; words he'd hardly even heard much less understood.

They were dealing with more than the miscarriage they'd originally suspected. He'd heard that.

Preeclampsia. He'd understood that.

He'd listened to their explanations; her age, her blood pressure, the stress she'd been under, the length of time since her last pregnancy; not exactly reassuring.

He let the medical jargon wash over him but he knew the statistics and how rare it was this early. It wasn't meant to happen. Not. This. Early.  
If it had to happen at all. But it was. Some strange fate, some freak of nature had made Kirsten one of the tiny percentage who developed the potentially fatal condition early.

Before the third trimester.

One of the anomalies because she was before twenty weeks.

Before a baby could be expected to survive.

Just because it was uncommon didn't make it impossible.

And here he was, living the near impossible.

There wasn't much hope really; if the baby wasn't already lost, it was one to save the other. And then there was the haunting thought, the paralysing fear that Kirsten wouldn't cope with the haemorrhaging.

She had a good chance, someone said, they'd diagnosed early; the sky-high blood pressure, unnatural mother-baby weight gain ratio followed her sudden weight gain and the extended nausea all giant clues. But it wasn't the concrete assurance he wanted or needed and the fact the pair were already in distress added more question marks.

---

An eternity of painful waiting later the doctor appeared, his gown stained with blood.

His wife's blood.

The thought made Sandy want to retch.

'I'm sorry, your wife…' he said and time stopped. Sandy was falling, spinning, the bright lights of the hospital hallway receding into black tunnel vision. He couldn't do this, couldn't hear this.

…blackness…darkness…cold…

Suddenly there was a hand on his arm, the corridor came back into focus and the doctor's voice was next to him again rather than a hundred miles away. 'She's fine, ok? She's fine. Stay with us.'

Sandy felt disorientated but clung onto the words.

She's fine.

_Fine_

Words that brought him back from almost passing out.

He gave a rough cough, holding back the tears that wanted to fall and the bile that rose in his throat.

Thank God. _Thank_. **_God_**.

For a moment he let himself relax in relief before recalling the circumstances, remembering the apology, and glancing back up at the doctor.

The word 'lost' echoed in his ears but he didn't need to hear it to know.

He didn't need the words; the exhausted doctor's sombre face told him everything.

He didn't need the meaningless apology.

He didn't need words to know things weren't ok.

To know even though Kirsten was 'fine' she wouldn't be 'ok'.

He thanked the doctor in a monotone. It wasn't his fault and he had just saved his wife but Sandy couldn't summon the energy to be sincere. His voice came from somewhere else.

---

It was too early for his regular, and usually uninformative update when Sandy appeared ashen faced from the hospital room. The heads of his two sons snapped up and Ryan, realising Seth was unable to talk, cleared his throat and asked the inevitable question; 'H-how is she?'

Seth looked up at his father, his eyes dark pools of dread seeking reassurance.

'Kirsten's fine,' he answered, allaying their initial fears, 'still unconscious but she's fine.'

His foster son continued to look worried, his eyes scrutinising Sandy's face and drawing their own conclusion. Seth felt the mood too; 'There's a 'but' isn't there dad?'

Sandy nodded, running a hand across the stubble forming on his face and pressing it against the dull ache at his temple. 'We lost the baby.'

Neither boy knew what to say, their father's voice was hollow and he looked defeated.

'Sorry,' they mumbled in unison.

Sandy gave a rueful smile and pulled them into a bear hug; 'Nothing to apologise for boys. Just so long as we've got you two it'll be alright.'

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I'm so nice…I didn't leave it at a cliff-hanger about Kirsten! I think that deserves a review.

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	8. In Limbo

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

Chapter 8: In Limbo

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Once again, a summer 2005 ramble! "Well I'm back from holiday where I did a lot of writing happy face.I have a computer set up to use while mine is being fixed (I hope) second happy face. BUT I backed up 2 days before my comp died again so I am missing some stuff off my story! Noooooooo! very angry upset face And the internet is now down another angry face"

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Sandy watched intently as his wife's eyelids fluttered, the doctor had said she would come round in a little while and he appeared to be right. He tightened the grip he held on her hand. She looked so small and defenceless in the hospital bed, her beautiful features almost as pale as the sheets around her. He was glad she'd been out cold through all the physical pain, but now he had only more pain to greet her with. Her eyelids continued to struggle open and she was rewarded by the blurred image of her husband sat by the bed.

'Hey sweetie,' he said gently, seeing her cerulean blue eyes focus on him.

Kirsten gave a wan smile, 'Hey,' her voice was barely more than a whisper.

'How're you feeling?'

'Ok,' she said more strongly, her eyes asking the question he didn't want to answer.

'I should go tell the doctor you're awake,' he began, looking away from her pleading gaze.

'_Please,' _her eyes begged,_ 'please, tell me what's going on. The baby…?'_

'Sandy…what happened? The baby…?' but she knew she didn't need to ask and she didn't need him answer either. It was written all over his face.

He shook his head, reaching his arms around her, 'I'm sorry honey.'

Her gaze flicked towards her stomach while underneath the sheets she gently placed her hand where, until a few hours ago, a life had been.

Gone

Empty

That's how she felt, empty.

She wanted to scream, cry, beat her fists against his chest as he held her. But she couldn't do that.

She wanted to beg him to tell her it wasn't true. But he couldn't do that.

Sandy studied her face anxiously and she couldn't bear the hurt and sympathy in his earnest eyes. She turned slowly on her side, away from his embrace and stared at the blank wall.

Blank, like her face.

Empty like her inside.

-----

Sandy debated whether to let the boys see Kirsten right then but he knew there would be mutiny if he so much as suggested them postponing their visit. Kirsten was obviously in shock and he didn't want them to worry, but of course, they were already worrying. The next moment they had appeared at the door. 'Hi boys,' Sandy said quietly, his voice rumbling with the effort. Kirsten didn't turn over.

'Is she sleeping?' Seth asked approaching the bed. Sandy nodded causing Ryan to frown; he could swear Kirsten's eyes were open. He flashed a quick glance at Sandy and understood. 'Maybe we should come back later,' he mumbled, pausing for a moment, 'tell her…tell her we love her.'

'Yeah you two head home, get some sleep,' Sandy said in a tone that let Seth know not to argue. 'She'll probably send me home next time she wakes up,' he continued despite the sceptical look on Ryan's face. 'So I'll grab a shower and then come back.' Sandy ran a hand over his stubble and asked suddenly, 'What day is it?'

'Um…Wednesday,' Seth answered.'

'Sh-ugar…I've got to go to court this afternoon, damn impractical. If you could pop in then…'

'Of course,' Ryan agreed readily.

'And uh, I'll call Dr Kim,' Sandy finished distractedly, frantically trying to remember the details of the stupid case that was going to drag him away from his wife. Seth grinned, 'Oh yeah, no school.' Sandy laughed as his son punched the air. Ryan showed no such unrestrained delight; he just looked shattered.

'Bed. Now. Ryan looks dead on his feet.'

'Ooh dad, channelling your inner Kirsten I see…ok, ok, we're going!' And Seth hurried out of the room. Ryan cast another worried glance at the figure lying inert and silent in the hospital bed and then followed.

-----

'I'm gonna pop home honey,' Sandy said softly, 'check on the boys and then I'll be right back.' Kirsten didn't reply or move.

'Anything you want?'

More silence.

'I love you.' Sandy waited but still nothing. He stood for a long time hoping the words would elicit some kind of response, trying to see something in the vacant blue eyes. 'Bye then,' he said at last and headed out. Kirsten's eyes flickered as he left but they stayed dry and cold.

'_I love you_,' she shouted silently, '_I love you and I'm sorry_' her conscious screamed, '_so, so sorry_.'

-----

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing my ass, spit it out Cohen.'

'I'm fine.'

'You're not,' Summer said, resting a soft hand on his arm and raising her chocolate eyes to his. 'Why weren't you in school today?'

'I…' he faltered under her gaze, 'it's just…' She laced her fingers through his and waited for him to continue.

'It's my mom.'

Summer's hand tightened, 'She's ok isn't she?' she asked, her voice full of genuine concern.

'Kind of…look Sum, you can't tell anyone this, I mean, maybe Marissa if you have to; I know you share everything…' Seth caught his ramble with a deep breath. 'But she doesn't want everyone to know.'

Summer nodded quickly, she really liked Kirsten, admired her, not just because she was gorgeous, rich and powerful and a socialite, but for being real person in a town of plastic zombies; an intelligent career woman but also a wife and mother. She wished she'd had a mother like that, Seth didn't know how lucky he was.

'My mom was pregnant and yesterday she lost the baby. Now she's…I don't know…strange; she won't talk, won't eat, just stares at the wall. It's awful, I can't stand it and it's killing my dad.'

Seth stopped and caught sight of Summer's horrified expression for a moment before she flung her arms around him. 'Oh Cohen, your poor mom, that's so unfair.'

-----

The anger that had been suspended by the hours of anxiety returned that afternoon. It meant he delivered a blinder of a performance in the courtroom but afterwards, alone in his office waiting for visiting hours at the hospital to begin, he simply felt horrible.

Sandy was angry with Caleb firstly, for upsetting Kirsten.

Then he was angry with Kirsten herself for working too hard.

Angry with the tired, apologetic doctor, the sympathetic nurses and the damn hard chairs at the hospital that, for no want of trying, had failed them.

He was even angry with the baby, something he could hardly understand.

And with whatever stupid fate had made things this way.

Most of all though, he was mad with himself.

What kind of husband let his wife work at such a demanding job in such a state?

What kind of father let their baby be endangered?

A rational voice told him it wasn't his fault, that he did what he could.

What kind of husband? Not one married to Kirsten Cohen.

But the guilt was stronger and in the privacy of his surf-shack office, Sandy Cohen put his head down onto the desk and cried.

Cried for himself because he'd failed and felt guilty, for his wife who was broken and most of all for his daughter. The baby girl Cohen he never got to hold his arms and compare with her mother.

-----

Sandy couldn't really justify arguing to spend another night at Kirsten's bedside now they knew she was going to be okay. As much as he wanted to stay, he kissed her goodbye when late visiting finished at eight and drove home in silence, without the customary show tunes on the stereo. Dinner was also a quiet affair; Ryan brooding and Sandy too emotionally exhausted to make conversation. Seth was still talking, probably because, as Ryan was beginning to suspect, it physically hurt him to be silent. But it wasn't the usual crazy, high-speed chatter, just random anecdotes dotted about the painful silence as they pushed the food about their plates. Immediately after dinner Ryan cried off Sandy's suggestions of play-station or a movie, citing a geometry test. Seth murmured some vague agreement and also headed upstairs hoping no one remembered he was doing algebra this semester. Sandy rinsed the plates and then stacked them in the dishwasher, wondering as he did so when he'd picked up Kirsten's unnecessary habit or whether he was just doing it because she wasn't there. She wasn't there and you could feel it; the house felt lonesome. Or perhaps that was just him.

A while later, after some pretty successful mooching about the house Sandy wandered upstairs thinking he'd go see how the boys' studying was going. He didn't want to be 'checking up' on them but he was bored. He couldn't keep his mind on any work, the hot tub wasn't so tempting minus the scantily clad Kirsten and there was _nothing_ on the TV, despite the five hundred odd channels.

He found Seth sitting hunched on the edge of his bed staring at the carpet. Captain Oats lay nearby, legs sticking up in the air as though he'd been tossed aside crossly. Perhaps he wasn't providing enough guidance tonight. Sandy didn't want to interrupt, knowing he'd sat thinking undisturbed for hours last night and early that morning. His son probably needed this, he had. Sandy withdrew silently and ducked his head into Ryan's room but it was empty. Puzzled, he executed a little search, more for something to do than because he was unduly worried; Ryan was pretty conscientious about letting them know where he was. Glancing out of the patio doors he noticed a light on in the pool house. Kicking himself for not thinking of it earlier, Sandy made his way across to what Seth had once called 'The Fortress Of Solitude'.

'You can move back in here you know, 'Sandy said as he sat down beside Ryan on the unmade bed. 'Not just because Kirsten lost the baby but if you want to.'

'No, no it's fine, honest,' Ryan said even though he knew Sandy would think he was only being polite. 'I-I like being in the house, if that's ok…

'Of course, we like having you in the house but why are you in here?'

'I wanted somewhere to think and the house just felt empty I guess. Stupid; there are three of us in it but…'

'I know what you mean,' Sandy told him, 'but she'll be home tomorrow.' Ryan hesitated, 'Do you think…do you think she'll…' he stopped, 'nothing.'

'What is it Ryan?'

'Nah, I can't explain it.'

'Do I think she'll come home in every sense?'

'Yeah,' he admitted.

'I don't know,' Sandy sighed sadly, 'I hope so.' He caught sight of his foster son's anxious face and changed tack. 'I mean, it's a big thing but she will eventually, she's strong our Kirsten and she's got us, give her time.' Ryan nodded but wasn't convinced.

'She has to doesn't she Ryan? What would I do without her huh?' He tried to end jovially but Ryan knew the joke only went halfway. Sandy knew this too. 'I'll see you later kid,' he said, getting up and leaving Ryan to resume the brooding position Seth had already perfected. A position Sandy mimicked a few minutes later, sat on a pool chair and staring out across the dark ocean. You got so used to things being perfect in Newport Beach; it was a shock to remember real life wasn't like that.

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Reviewing has been scientifically proven to lengthen your life and prevent cancer and the common cold.

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	9. Two days

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Well my sweetiepies and hunnibunches I am now leaving you. I know, it's awful of me but I'm afraid I'm going to Spain to meet my American friends and their exchange student's family! I'm so excited. Wish I could update while I'm gone but it's not possible. I've tried to leave it at a good point with having the aftermath and just beginning to try and deal. There's gonna be a hell of lot of dealing to come…tears, nightmares, secrets coming out, fights, fluff and lots, lots more so tune in after the break!

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Chapter 9: Two Days

Kirsten was discharged from hospital two days later on the proviso that she stayed in bed for the next few days. Sandy had kept an almost constant vigil by her beside but she hadn't uttered a word. None either for the boys who visited each day and only a muted nod to the doctor when he told her she could go home. The drive from the hospital was silent, Sandy forcing Seth and Ryan to stay home and picking up his fragile wife himself. She didn't show any signs of gladness at being home, letting Sandy lead her dazedly into the kitchen. Her two sons scrambled up from the sofa and hurried to hug her but she stood immobile in their embrace, not even moving to wrap her own arms around them.

'Let her breathe guys,' Sandy joked lamely, taking her coat. Eyeing her closely, Ryan pulled out a chair for Kirsten but didn't say anything. This of course was an impossibility for his brother.

'So-o-o mom, what do you want to eat? Because I mean, I'm starving and the menus are calling for their master. We've sadly missed your take-out ordering skills the past few days.' Seth's rambling voice was overly cheerful but everyone pretended not to notice. Kirsten didn't answer, not even looking up from where she was sat dejectedly on a kitchen stool, staring vacantly at the countertop.

'Mom?'

'Why don't you boys go play some play-station? I think your mother and I are practised in the art of ordering of take out.' Sandy said quickly.

Seth and Ryan shuffled out slowly casting worried looks at Kirsten. A few moments later the sounds of a gruesome virtual death could be heard mingling with the subdued yells of triumph and defeat.

'Honey…' Sandy began, placing a tentative hand on her back. There was no response. He gently turned her face to look at him and was startled by the dull blue-grey of the eyes that met his own for a moment before looking away. 'You've got to eat something,' he said softly, trying to keep the frustration and anxiety out of his voice. His wife had barely eaten in hospital and that combined with the distress of the past few days meant her slender body was particularly gaunt.

Kirsten shook her head, sliding from the stool and drifting listlessly towards the stairs. Sandy let her go; she needed time, that was all.

-----

Kirsten reached out as Sandy finished arranging the bedclothes about her later that night. He took the cold hand in his own, almost surprised at the gesture. 'Sorry,' she forced out.

'You have nothing to be sorry for,' he told her quickly, stooping to kiss her. She shook her head, closing her eyes and releasing his hand. He stood for a while watching her and thought she must have drifted off to sleep until she spoke again.

'I love you.'

It was barely audible but it was a start; three words that meant everything.

'Oh Kirsten, I love you too.'

-----

The weekend passed and Kirsten was still quiet, worryingly quiet, in fact she hardly spoke. There were small smiles for the boys, tight-lipped monosyllabic answers to questions and the inevitable 'I'm fine.'

She wasn't fine, far from it, they all knew that, but there didn't seem anything they could do. She spent the weekend alternating between the bedroom, the couch and a lounge chair by the pool, Sandy carrying her everywhere and all three boys falling to help her; fetch books, magazines, drinks, snacks, tell humorous stories, set up the DVD player, fluff her pillows; anything to raise an almost smile in the pallid face. But it didn't seem to matter; the slight curve of her lips wasn't a real smile, it didn't meet her eyes. She didn't want any of the things they brought, didn't care whether they talked and hardly ate. She sat doing nothing, not talking, not crying, just sitting and staring into middle distance, pretending nothing was wrong.

-----

'It's so unfair,' Ryan muttered, kicking at the sand as he ambled along the beach. 'Why her? Why Kirsten?' As much as he'd been hesitant about this baby he would never have wanted this, he never wanted Kirsten hurt. 'It sucks,' he thought bitterly. That baby would have had a wonderful life; parents that would never get drunk and hit her, a mother and father who would always be there, always worry when she wasn't home, look out for her, ground her even. A safe, beautiful home, education, food; all those material things but also a family; two brothers who would love her to bits and two parents who would do the same. It just didn't make sense. They'd all wanted this baby; he and Seth had finally admitted they were pretty excited, Sandy was quite obviously over the moon and Kirsten, well, to know how happy she'd been you only had to look at how low she was now. Ryan didn't know people could turn off like that; change from being full of light and energy to such a pale melancholy ghost. Her bright eyes, her smile, her golden head, pealing laugh, the flush that crept up her throat when the boys caught her and Sandy kissing, her daily questions, her just being 'there'; a presence, a reassurance, a centre for their family. They took it all for granted and now these things were missing it was glaringly obvious. She was a shadow of herself, everything about her dimmed down; the smiles and questions were scarce now, her laugh even rarer, the kisses were feeble and her presence changed. She was the one needing reassurance and her family. The Kirsten they knew wasn't 'there' any more so they had to be.

---

Ryan looked up to see Sandy walking towards him and felt surprised when he didn't feel annoyed at the interruption. Maybe he was getting used to the Cohen 'talk, talk and more talk' approach.

'You ok?'

'Uh-yeah.'

'You know with it being kinda like with…'

'Theresa?'

'Yeah.'

For a little while there was only the sound of the waves crashing against the shore as they walked along.

'You know…if you feel like talking…'

'Nah.'

'Kirsten won't either. I always thought you were like me somehow but you two are more alike than we think.' Ryan smiled weakly and suddenly decided he did want to talk. 'It's not really like what happened last summer,' he said quietly. 'As much as I never wanted that to happen, it did turn out for the best. I feel bad saying this but as upset as I was it was such a relief. This was different.'

Sandy nodded, speechless at the flow of words pouring from his usually silent son's mouth.

'We would have done our best for that child but it wouldn't have had much, just some crap future in Chino.' Ryan continued bitterly, 'Your baby would have had everything. Theresa was young, working three jobs, worried out of her mind about the baby, her mom, who the father was, whether Eddie would come back, if we'd manage to make it on our own; that much stress was bound to have consequences.' He shook his head as though confused. 'You and Kirsten wanted that baby, Seth and I did too although we took a while to admit it. We tried to look after her. It just seems so dumb.'

'I know,' the man who was his father in all but name told him quietly, settling an arm on his shoulder. 'I feel like I failed. I sit up at night thinking what I did wrong, what I should have done. That's stupid too.'

'It's not your fault though.'

'I know. It's ok. Things will be ok, they will, eventually.' Sandy said it as though he was trying to convince his son but Ryan knew he was also trying to convince himself. It didn't make any difference how many times Sandy said it; things weren't ok.

-----

That evening Kirsten overheard Sandy and Seth talking sat by the pool. It was a balmy evening so the patio doors in their room were open and she could hear every word.

'You alright Seth?' she heard her husband ask, settling himself down next to his son who was splashing fretfully at the water. He didn't answer for a while.

'Why won't she talk dad?' he said finally, 'This sounds silly but...I'm scared, that isn't mom.'

'I know Seth but she's just dealing.'

'I just…don't like her being like this; I don't like not being able to do anything.'

Kirsten moved away from the doorway not wanting to hear any more. Her behaviour was scaring her son; she would have to hide her emotions better. She'd thought she'd done well, she'd forced herself to at least answer their questions and she hadn't cried. Kirsten Cohen couldn't break down; she was too strong for that, or at least her façade was. She had to suffer in silence; pretend she was fine, for the sake of her sons, for her image, for the Newport Group, for Sandy, for her own self-esteem and sanity.

-----

She knew she had to make an effort and Sandy was, at the same time, both the easiest and hardest option. He was feeling almost the same as her, he would understand, he would never judge her, but he could also could read her, too well. He could get inside her head and her heart, too deep, and that frightened her sometimes. Not of course that that was true at the moment. She'd shut him out along with everyone else. She wanted to keep it that way but she had to make some concessions, some pretence. Nothing monumental. She certainly wasn't ready to talk about it all yet but she could at least act like herself, stop being mute, try to accept his affection. She would try, later; right now she wanted a hot shower, its solitude and comfort.

---

'I'm gonna have a shower honey,' Sandy called before opening the bathroom door. He came face to face with his wife in her robe.

'Were you…?'

'It's alright. I'll wait; I can take a shower later.'

'No go ahead. I'll have one when you're done.'

Since when were they so polite around each other?

'Sandy.'

'Kirsten.'

'Please just go in the shower.'

'You know, it's big enough for the both of us,' he said quietly.

'Yeah, actually it is.' Her reply was nervous and she didn't know why. Usually there was nothing she liked more than taking showers with Sandy. She was so tired right now she wasn't sure she had the energy to shower alone, it was just the fact it was so intimate. And she didn't know why that bothered her.

Her husband cupped her face in his hand, 'You look exhausted, let's get you showered and into bed.'

She nodded mutely and let him lead her into the bathroom.

They stripped off in silence, their movements slow and lethargic. She glanced sideways at him but he wasn't looking at her, for some reason that both relieved and upset her. While she couldn't cope with the idea of intimacy right now she was also frightened by the idea that maybe he didn't want her. Kirsten shook the thought out of her head, she was being neurotic.

Sandy tested the water temperature and motioned to his wife to climb in; she obliged, slipping past him awkwardly, head bowed. He hated this feeling, the emptiness between them because neither knew what to say, how to act. He followed her and shut the glass door behind him, trapping them both in the confined space, the tension palpable.

'I'll soap you if you soap me?' he offered to break the silence, knowing if she refused they had a much bigger problem. Kirsten nodded almost imperceptibly and reached for the sponge. He watched as she lathered it with shower gel until it foamed, drawing out the task, delaying having to touch him. At last she reached up, passing the sponge across his forehead and forcing him to close his eyes. He complied, hoping it would make her feel better as well as preventing the soap getting into his eyes. Sandy stood blind as she smoothed the creases from his brow and scraped gently over his stubble, rubbing down his neck. A moment later she rinsed the foam away and he opened his eyes to find her intently soaping down his arms, then up to his shoulders and down his back and legs, squeezing the sponge to clear the bubbles on the way back up. She shifted round so she was facing him, washing his chest, her strokes becoming slower as she descended. There was a moment's hesitation when she came to his groin but with a shaky breath she steeled herself and lathered him gently. Sandy clenched his teeth, fighting the feeling even her reluctant hands had on him. He didn't want her to think he wanted anything more than some time spent together. She didn't notice, or at least didn't react to the slight tightening of his muscles, continuing to soap and rinse down his legs. Once she was done she turned away to wash out the sponge, squeezing it tightly to hide her shaking hands.

Sandy held out his hand for the sponge before she could cause it any more damage with her nails and copied her earlier actions with the shower gel. He stepped closer and tilted her face towards him, wondering if he was imagining the momentary stiffness as he touched her. She blinked her eyes closed before he could look into them and he sighed, carefully pushing strands of damp hair out of her face before passing the sponge across it. He wished it could wipe away the dark shadows under eyes, the sorrowful expression, smooth the too-prominent cheekbones or instil a little colour in the pallid cheeks. But no, wiping away the soap simply left her face as sad and drawn as it had been before; the sponge was no magic wand. Sandy swallowed a sigh and began on her back, pressing firmly to try and expel the tension across her shoulders before sweeping downwards, over her ass and down the length of her shapely legs. He repeated the movement with water before tenderly manoeuvring her to face him. She kept her eyes cast downwards as he rubbed up and down her arms and across her chest, goose bumps appearing on her skin as he passed the sponge over her breasts and stomach. He didn't waver, continuing, albeit a little more lightly across her hips and down between her legs, wondering if she would pull away from the contact. Surprisingly she didn't but he heard her breath catch in her throat before he moved on to finish her legs. Standing back up he set the sponge back on the soap dish without moving away from his wife.

'Thanks,' she said quietly.

'You're welcome. Thank _you_. I know things are…different at the moment…' he was prevented from continuing by Kirsten's fingers pressing across his mouth.

'Don't Sandy,' she murmured. 'It's okay.'

'Well, it's not but… Is there anything I can do?'

She shook her head, biting her lip and wincing because it was still sore. Sandy reached out slowly and looped his arms cautiously around Kirsten's waist, feeling her tense fleetingly before relaxing and letting herself lean against him, her head nuzzled in the hollow of his neck. They stood like that for a long time, in a comfortable silence as the spray pounded down around them.

Kirsten was the first to break the quiet, 'We used to shower together a lot, trying to save water.'

'Didn't really work did it? We always stayed in twice as long.' Sandy smiled, remembering happier times. They were stood under the jet of the shower, water streaming down their faces as their heads moved closer, slowly, hesitantly, indirectly. Slowly, very slowly and subtly closer. So close they could sense rather than see each other, nerves feeling the intimacy, anticipating the pending contact, their breath fluttering on each other's skin. Their noses grazed and Kirsten jolted away as though she'd been burnt, eyes frightened and inhaling frantically.

The moment, the connection was broken.

'The water's getting cold,' she excused. Sandy tipped his head up to face the pounding spray as his wife climbed out of the shower, his reluctant tears invisible.

---

'It's cold,' Kirsten gave a quiet moan as Sandy lifted the covers to climb into bed. She was curled up tightly, hugging the sheets round her. 'I could turn down the air conditioning,' he offered his eyes flicking over her anxiously as she shivered visibly. It wasn't _that_ cold.

'You feeling okay?' he asked worriedly, suddenly realising she could have an infection or something.

There was a nod in reply. And another shiver.

He reached across the bed, to check her forehead for fever. She didn't seem to have a temperature. It must be psychological. He let his hand slip to her shoulders, his brain registering how she tensed at his touch but refusing to acknowledge it. Kirsten felt herself do it to and felt terrible. She tried to relax into Sandy's arms, willing thing to go back to normal, times when his hands rubbing her back brought warmth, comfort, desire, not tears pricking the backs of her eyelids.

She shivered again, knowing there was no way she was physically cold being spooned so close to her husband. But inside she was frozen.

'I love you.'

Hearing the words but not feeling them Kirsten panicked, knowing she had to reply and but unsure how.

Deep breath. And another. Just say it.

'I love you.' To her ears it sounded false. How was she meant to do this? She loved her husband. Loves. Knows she does, just can't…_feel_ right now.

Can't feel anything except hurt, pain, disappointment and guilt, lots of guilt.

Why was Sandy's love suddenly less powerful than all those? It couldn't be. Their love could conquer anything. Why did she only believe that, not feel it?

-----

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A review each chapter, makes me post faster.

Well it will once I'm back. Look for another chapter 7th August.

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	10. One to Ten

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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LOOK WHO THE HELL IT IS!

I'm posting this now because I'm gonna be away this weekend and then I have lots of new stuff to sort into chapter 11!

Well I'm back, did you survive without me? First of all the HUGEST thank you for all the reviews! We made it to 100 CONGRATULATIONS! And so many long ones, helpful ones, amusing ones! I guess my bugging you paid off. I'll be quieter now! A lot of you are worried about the Kandy, I can't deny it…there will be more angst but I reassure you I believe in the strength of the Kandy love. I just think that Kirsten would feel numb and push even Sandy away. Of course that's just my opinion but you wouldn't like it if I made them happy too quick!

Enough of me…on with show!

---

Chapter 10: One to Ten 

On Monday morning the three Cohen men ranged about the kitchen were taken aback when Kirsten breezed in, fully dressed, hair and make up done and a false smile pasted on her face.

'Mom?' Seth asked puzzlement evident in his voice.

Ryan paused, a spoonful of cereal half-way to his mouth and glanced quickly at Sandy whose head had shot up at his son's words.

'Kirsten…' he began.

'Don't say it Sandy,'

'But mom...' her son cut in.

'Or either of you,' she said crossly, feeling Ryan's stricken gaze as clearly as she heard Seth's words. 'I'm not sick, I'm not an invalid and I am _not_ staying home.'

'Kirsten…' Sandy repeated.

'I am _going_ to work Sandy, so move and let me get to the coffee.'

'Gonna be late for school,' Ryan muttered, hurriedly stashing his bowl in the dishwasher.

'What? We've got like…oh yeah, gotta go,' Seth agreed seeing Ryan's 'shut-up-and-agree-so-we-can-get-out-of-here' look, 'parental units, we'll see you tonight.'

'Bye boys,' and 'have a good day,' they said, not missing a beat of their argument.

'Do you want me to call your father?' Sandy threatened once their sons had gone.

'Huh?'

'I'm perfectly capable of calling a favour in return; I bail him out, he bans you from work for the next month, seems like fair trade to me. And right now he's not gonna deny me anything.'

'You wouldn't.'

'Watch me,' he said, picking up the phone and scrolling down for Caleb's number. His finger hovered over the call button, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

'_Fine_!' Kirsten huffed and folded her arms across her chest, refusing to return the kiss Sandy pressed against her pouting lips.

-----

'So, what do you want to do today?' Sandy asked a while later, wandering into their bedroom. Now the boys had left and she knew she didn't have to go into work and play the part of 'Kirsten Nichol Cohen' perfect wife/mother/daughter/fashion icon/social queen, Kirsten dropped the act. She sat wearily on their large bed, rubbing the thousand-thread count sheets between her fingers like a child with a nervous habit. Gone was the phoney, smiling, technicolor Kirsten and Sandy was left with the quiet, melancholy woman he was struggling to help.

'You don't have to baby-sit me,' she told him, unable to stop the resentment creeping into her tones.

'I'm not,' he said patiently, sitting down next to her 'I simply thought I'd spend a day with my beautiful wife.' Kirsten opened her mouth to argue but Sandy cut in, 'I've already cancelled my appointments so you can't stop me,' he told her, happily tugging off his tie.

She squeezed his hand gently and let him press his lips against her cold cheek. If circumstances were different she would never have been so passive; moments alone were so rare they were used to making the most of them. As it was she simply rested lethargically against Sandy and let him circle his arms around her.

'You tired baby?' he asked softly, unconscious of his choice of word. Kirsten stiffened and he immediately realised. 'Oh God I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' he murmured rubbing her arm comfortingly. She shook her head and pulled away, 'Doesn't mater, I'm gonna…' Sandy watched her trail over to the glass door and stare out, never finishing her sentence. One of the rare California rainstorms had appeared, water cascading down the windows, the sky heavy with more to come. Kirsten slowly opened the door and stepped out. Again, Sandy let her go; even though it was cold out there and within minutes she was wet through. She stood on the patio and let the rain beat down; ruining the expensive clothes she was wearing, plastering her hair to her head and soaking her skin. But as much as the water washed her, she didn't feel cleansed and the rivers down her face were not salty. When Sandy could see her visibly shivering he hurried out and dragged her back inside. She stood childlike, dripping on the floor as he helped her out of the sodden clothes, wrapping her in her robe before going to run a hot bath. Her dazed silence was exasperating but he forced himself to keep calm. The last thing he wanted was a row.

-----

Marissa was no stranger to thinking odd thoughts and one of the weirdest was that if her dad had married Kirsten she wouldn't exist. Or that some other version of herself would be their child. She was very like Kirsten she'd once decided and was never sure how much of a good thing this was. They'd both had apparently picture-perfect childhoods; wealthy parents, huge houses, everything they could ever want, plagued only by their younger sisters. They'd both been queens at school; top grades, social chair, lead debutante. Good looks, fashionable clothes, strings of friends and admirers, cardboard cut-out boyfriends that their parents approved of and then they'd found someone different, someone special that their parents certainly didn't approve of. But the similarities went further than face value; both of them had been desperately unhappy.

Through her dad's misty-eyed recollections she'd seen the 'perfect' life Kirsten Nichol had lead but beneath the rose-tint she discovered the other Kirsten. The one who was angry at her parents, who drank and partied just like Marissa used to. The girl whose rebellion consisted of leaving for Berkeley rather than overdosing in TJ.

Now she was the Queen of Newport and universally acknowledged as 'perfect' once again. Marissa knew perfect didn't exist. People thought she was when she wasn't and neither was Kirsten.

She knew Kirsten drank; everyone in Newport drank but it wasn't the same. Kirsten drank like Marissa did. They both turned to alcohol when things went wrong. She didn't think anyone else noticed, it wasn't exactly blatantly obvious, but she saw it because she knew what to look for. She was used to playing the same hiding game.

So when Marissa heard Ryan's news she knew what Kirsten would want to do. In the same position it would be what she'd do. Vodka could make everything appear perfect. Numb and perfect. That was the only way perfect existed.

-----

'Do you want to talk honey?' he asked after she was warm and dressed again.

'No,'

'You know I think we need to.'

'I _don't_ want to talk about it, can I speak more plainly?'

'But…'

'Just go away Sandy,' her voice was quiet but had an edge to it.

He didn't move.

'Please, leave me _alone_.' Her eyes flashed as he continued to stand there, 'Why can't you leave me alone?'

'Sweetheart…?'

'Leave. Me. Alone.'

'Why can't you talk to me?'

'Because I can't. This is my problem, my fault and I'm _trying_ to deal with it, alone.'

'This is _not_ your fault and you don't have to do this alone.'

'Yes I do,' she was angry now, 'This is _nothing to do with you_.'

The heated words registered in his head and Sandy faltered, his face a mixture of confusion and frustration. 'Kirsten!' He felt his own temper rising, 'This has _everything_ to do with me. She was my baby as well, I care, I'm dealing too, but it doesn't have to be like this,' he reached out a tentative hand.

Kirsten tore herself away, '_DON'T touch me_.'

She stumbled blindly towards the door.

'Don't do it Kirsten,' Sandy appealed, 'Please, _please_? We can work this out, together. But I need you and I need you sober.'

He watched as his wife froze in the doorway.

'How come you think that's what I'm gonna do?'

Sandy almost smiled, 'Because I know you Kirsten; Merlot for thanksgiving, Chardonnay at Christmukah, champagne with the Newpsies, vodka when things get really bad. If you have one glass, you have ten.'

'Have you quite finished cataloguing my alcohol intake?' she asked bitterly.

'I'm not judging you; I'm just saying I know, what I don't know is why.'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Don't you think it bothers me that you're not happy? That you drink yourself into a stupor when things go wrong? That alcohol can comfort you better than I can?

To be honest it kills me, I'm your husband but I can't _do anything_. The bottle's your support, not me.'

Kirsten tense frame began to tremble and Sandy hesitated for only a moment before moving behind her, 'I'm here, I'm always here. So please, can we try without it?'

'I-I don't know,' she choked, stumbling to continue as she felt rather than saw the hurt and disappointment flood his face, 'it's not you. It's not that you're not enough, it's me. I don't know whether _I _am.'

Sandy heaved a shuddering sigh, 'You are sweetheart, you're the most fantastic, talented, amazing, gifted, exceptional, wonderful, intelligent, beautiful woman,' he told her, deciding there just weren't enough superlatives to describe his wife. 'You can do this, we can do this. You're more than enough, you have so much, it's the drink that makes you think otherwise. You're stronger without it I promise. You don't have to do this yourself, alone, let us help, rely on me. I have far pleasanter side affects than vodka,' he paused for breath after this long speech, letting his tall frame sag slightly. 'For once Kirsten, let yourself be helped.'

She swallowed, 'Okay.'

He expected tears as she turned round and huddled in his arms, not the weary face and doleful apology.

'I'm sorry Sandy. God, I love you. Imagine how much of a wreck I'd be without you.'

-----

AN. That last section was written so long ago. This is the AN from the time:

"_Just_ seen the preview for 'The Dearly Beloved' and I am soooo excited. OMG, OMG, OMG! I can't WAIT! Ok calm! Well, I was really impressed, and upset by the bit with Sandy and Kirsten. Brilliant acting but nooooooo they can't do this to Kandy! So following that I thought I'd try a confrontational scene between them but it hasn't really turned out how I wanted."

Hence the reason I don't feel it's up to my usual standard.

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Reviews rock my world. The world is unstable due to reviews. But don't let that put you off!

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	11. Most of the Time

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

Chapter 11: Most of the Time

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It's official this story actually hates me. I have a fight with it every time I work on it. It's putting years on my life trying to untangle my timelines and endless sections that refuse to match up! Consequently your patience is appreciated!

-----

That week passed very slowly. Kirsten refused to let Sandy spend all his time at home with her but he often fixed it that way; bringing files home and scheduling meetings so that he could be back for lunch or home in the afternoon. Kirsten herself felt useless away from the office, she had nothing to do, not that she felt like doing anything at all. The boys were at school during the day and they hardly needed a mother, now she'd lost the chance to be one again.  
Most of the time she didn't get up in the morning; she couldn't face it. It was a lot easier to force herself out of bed when the sunshine wasn't streaming in through the windows, mocking her melancholy. The woman who had once loathed a moment spent in bed unless it was with Sandy now used it as a shield. It was so much easier to hide in the cocoon of the covers and if her husband jeopardized this fragile safe-zone there was always the closet. She didn't want to move on she just wanted to forget. Go to bed and wake up as though none of this had happened, go back to how things were before. Last night she had caught Sandy crying in his study, embarrassed by his tears she had crept away unseen, guilty for not comforting him. She wondered why she hadn't cried. She had cried over Ryan's sheets and Seth's letter, dampening the cotton, smudging the ink with her tears. Yet now she just felt empty, a dried up shell that simply ached inside. But perhaps it was better that way. As long as she didn't cry she was okay.

---

'Don't hang up!' the voice on the line said urgently, half-demand, half-pleading. And so Ryan found himself on the phone with Caleb Nichol for the second time in less than a week.

'Uh…Mr Nichol? I'll get someone,' he offered, wondering which lie he could use to get one of the Cohen men to the phone or whether he should just hang up. Caleb had been ringing constantly since Kirsten had come home and Ryan had avoided the phone on principle.

'No!' the harsh voice stopped him in his tracks. 'I mean, you're fine; if you'll agree to talk to me.'

'Um…sure.'

'Seth and Sandy won't talk to me anyway.'

'They're angry,' was the matter of fact response.

'And you're not?'

'I am but…'

'I understand Ryan and I appreciate you talking to me. I just really need to know about Kirsten.'

'You don't know?'

'Not enough. I've only seen her once since…since…'

'You were at the hospital?'

'Yes.' Caleb sounded exasperated.

'We didn't see you.'

'I had to keep out of Sandy's way, no point both of us having to be hospitalised.'

'He is pretty upset.'

'And I respect that but she's my daughter,' he said protectively.

'She's _his_ wife,' Ryan shot back.

'I know,' Caleb answered, working to not sound mutinous about it.

'When did you see her?'

'Wednesday.'

Caleb thought ruefully of the brief interlude with his daughter.

---

Sandy had just left the hospital room, shadow circled eyes showing more than tiredness, broad shoulders bowed. Caleb took the opportunity to slip into the room. She reminded him of her mother in the hospital bed, curled up facing away from the door, away from reality. The memories hurt. He wondered if she was sleeping but somehow he doubted it. Nonetheless, he stood and watched her 'sleep' for several minutes. Caleb Nichol wasn't one for religion but he thanked whatever deities listening that she was here. But he was angry that this time there was no one to blame. Except himself.

When things went wrong for him there was hell to pay but now he couldn't do anything. Being the shrewd businessman he was, he knew he wasn't entirely to blame but for once he couldn't escape from his part in the mess. While he couldn't control the preeclampsia that could have taken both lives, he knew the miscarriage was, for the most part, directly attributable to him. His demands, his behaviour, his stupid argument. If there was anything he hated it was failure, losses and not being in control. He would have been angry with the doctors for failing to recognise the signs, but they were the same doctors who had saved her. They only person he could really be justified in hating was himself, the other factors in the loss of the baby; her age, her stubbornness, the sickness, were of minor importance when he faced the negligence on his own part; he hadn't even _known_. No suspicions, nothing. He hated himself for that and no doubt Kirsten did also. But right now the guilt had to be put aside, he had to see her. See where things stood between them or whether this was it.

They had fought throughout her childhood and bitterly when she was a teenager, too alike to get along; both headstrong, proud and intelligent. Kirsten liked her independence, always wanted to be more than just his daughter. As she grew older their arguments became more divisive and when she left for Berkeley their relationship was irrevocably damaged. Of course, it hadn't helped that he had stayed angry so long and failed to walk his eldest daughter down the aisle. Over the years she had threatened to cut him out of her life several times and he had always managed to wheedle his way back in. After college, after Sandy, after the wedding, when they'd stayed in Berkeley, when he'd pissed her off over the years; treating Sandy like trash, working her too hard, insulting Ryan, after the Heights case, making Julie CEO, after Lindsay, the list went on. But this time was different and he wasn't sure he could forgive himself, never mind expect Kirsten to.

Kirsten shifted position, slowly, painfully, eyes, as he had suspected, were open and fixed momentarily on her father in surprise before sliding away, The hurt and resentment in those blue orbs continued to haunt him.

'Kirsten,' he stuttered helplessly, watching as she turned away biting back a moan of pain at the movement.

'Go…away,' she had forced out, her jaw clenched, whether to stop tears, against pain or simply in anger he couldn't tell but the eyes focussed on the ceiling were unnaturally dry.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't want to hear it,' she spat. 'Not get out before I press the call button and have you removed.'

Caleb knew when he was beaten yet he hesitated. His daughter's breathing was laboured, the outburst having had emotional and physical effects. It was the reappearance of is son-in-law at the other end of the corridor, dressed in his court suit and glancing at his watch, that sent him off in the opposite direction, hoping the gentle wheezing in his daughter's chest would subside if he wasn't there to agitate her.

---

'Mr Nichol?' Ryan's voice was a mixture of confusion, awkwardness and polite exasperation.

'Afraid I was thinking there, what did you say?'

'I didn't.'

'Oh yes, you're the quiet one.'

Ryan didn't respond.

'Well, ahem…is Kirsten…?'

'I…don't think she's ready to talk to you yet.'

'I know, just tell me how she's doing.'

'Well um, the doctors said she had to rest and Sandy's made sure she has.'

'Has she said anything about me.'

'Uh no…she's been very quiet.'

'How quiet?'

'Sort of…mute.'

'Oh dear. After…after my wife died she got like this. Sandy was the only one she'd talk to.'

'Not this time.'

'If there's anything I can do.'

'With all due respect Mr Nichol, I think you've done enough.'

Caleb didn't appreciate the boy's tone but knew he was right.

'Do you think I've lost daughter and granddaughter?'

Ryan swallowed uncomfortable, this was a surreal conversation. He guessed grief and guilt did strange things to people because Caleb Nichol firstly talking to him and secondly baring his soul was the last thing he'd expected when he picked up the phone. But with Sandy refusing to answer any calls in order to avoid the Newpsies and Caleb, and Seth still in bed, he hadn't any choice but to answer the persistent ring. Kirsten, even if she had been in a fit state to converse, was ignoring her family, never mind the telephone.

'I deserve to lose them both.'

'Yes, you do but…I also know that it wasn't _all_ your fault so you don't…and I guess deep down Kirsten knows that too.'

'Maybe, well… Thank you Ryan.'

'You're welcome?'

'Do you think I could uh, maybe call you again, keep updated?'

'Um…sure.'

'Poolhouse extension is 461 right?'

'Yeah,' Ryan answered absently. Caleb calling him on the private line. To quote Seth that was almost too minty for words. He accepted more thanks and a brusque goodbye before being left with the dial tone.

Yes. Definitely far too minty.

Fuck. Forget Seth's alternative vocabulary. When the hell had he become Caleb Nichol's personal confessor?

-----

The next day there came an impatient rap on the door and Sandy found his mother-in-law behind a bunch of flowers. 'I'm here to see Kirsten,' Julie announced, ignoring Sandy's protests, merely thrusting the bouquet at him and stalking towards the bedroom, 'she might just need a chat woman-to-woman.'

Sandy looked uncertainly at the flowers, initially smiling as he recognised Kirsten's favourite flower and thinking how strange it was that Julie had become such a good friend. From Julie Cooper irritating neighbour and evil Newpsie to Jimmy Cooper's ex and manipulative bitch, then she had morphed into Julie Cooper-Nichol, Newport's most powerful woman, one half of the gruesome twosome, hilarious mother-in-law and usurper of the CEO position, before further transforming to become a confidante and friend.

But at the same time he had niggling doubts about the flowers. Flowers had always been special to Kirsten but not always for the right reasons. They meant the endless wreaths after her mother's death and the apologetic bouquets from her husband when he was in the doghouse as well as the bunches of daisies her son brought her as a child. He didn't know how she would react to these.

---

'How're you feeling?' Julie asked matter-of-factly. Kirsten debated not answering but the sharp blue eyes above her demanded a response. 'A little sore,' she found herself replying unexpectedly.

'And up here?' Julie asked, tapping her vibrant head with a long, perfectly manicured nail. 'The same I guess,' Kirsten mumbled, 'if that makes any sense.' Julie gave a tense smile but the other woman had turned away.

She reached out and tilted the blonde head back towards her. 'Don't do this Kirsten, don't shut me out.'

Kirsten swallowed. 'It's nothing personal. I'm doing it to everyone, even Sandy.'

'He's worried.'

'I'll be fine. I just need some time and _space_. Two concepts the Cohen clan doesn't seem to appreciate…except the Cohen-Atwood component.'

'I guess Ryan understands what you're going through.'

'I hate that I'm dragging all those issues up.'

'Kiki, this isn't your fault!'

'That's debatable.'

'Have you talked to Sandy?'

'No.'

'Why not? He's going through the same thing.'

'Also debatable.'

She didn't quite know what to say in response to that so she changed tack.

'Did it hurt?'

'What?'

'The…you know…'

If she hadn't been feeling so wretched Kirsten would have smiled at that. Blunt, invasive, personal questions were Julie's forte.

'Um…I was unconscious; first naturally then medically so I didn't really…feel anything. I guess things were pretty uncomfortable when I woke up but I was uh, more preoccupied with the emotional pain.'

Julie squeezed the older woman's hand and changed gear again.

'Think about it this way Kirsten, you escaped from eighteen more years of guard-duty. And all of those awful baby-related things; swollen feet, stretch marks, labour pains, sleepless nights, nappies, nightmares, worry…Can you imagine me going through that again?'

'I'd rather not Julie; you are married to my father.'

Julie sniggered, 'Sorry, I guess not!

'There are so many things that make it worth it though,' Kirsten disputed.

'What? The pregnancy 'glow', seriously, it's overrated.'

'I meant after that.'

Her stepmother considered for a moment, 'Hmm I don't see it. Kids are sticky and icky; always puking and peeing and wanting to eat.' Julie barely restrained from saying a Summer-esque 'eww'. 'They're only cute for a couple of years and then they become teenagers.'

'Oh I don't know,' Kirsten sighed, realising Julie wasn't going to understand. 'I guess I'm just suffering from premature empty-nest syndrome.'

'You're too sweet Kiks, I couldn't face it; kids give you wrinkles in all the wrong places.'

Kirsten laughed at the flippant comment but the sound was hollow. Everything Julie had mentioned was worth it. She would have given anything to have that baby.

Julie watched the desolate look creep back across her friend's face and sighed. It was going to take more than a pep-talk and a few lame jokes to make Kirsten smile again. Julie's Kirsten would never spend a minute longer in bed than she had to; this one looked like she needed several days sleep.

'I should go or Sandy will be complaining,' she said, bending to kiss Kirsten. 'I'm so sorry and I think you should know Cal is too. I didn't know he had a real heart till now.' And with that Julie Cooper-Nichol was gone.

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Please review.

(Ah, the simple approach)

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	12. Night Times

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

---

This chapter celebrates the return of Em. It's purely selfish – I need her help lol!

---

Chapter 12: Night Times

Sandy crept in late that night, guilty for staying at the office but unable to face her. It hurt to see her so depressed and he could only take being pushed away for so long. He hopped lightly over the creaky step in the stairs to their room and silently cursing the door as it groaned open. Kirsten was already in bed, eyes closed and the covers drawn up to her chin. Her husband paused to look at her, smiling as he thought wistfully of other nights. Nights when she'd be lying in a similar fashion; bed clothes pulled up so only her eyes, dancing dangerously, peeped over the top. Those nights he'd usually find her naked beneath the sheets or hiding some new lingerie. Tonight however her eyelids barely flickered as he came in, the dark circles around her eyes obvious beneath the lashes that rested there. She wasn't asleep; he knew her better than that. Neither of them could sleep alone but Sandy made more of pretence; 'I had to finish reading this,' he'd say when she came in late, tapping the file of a case that wasn't due to be heard for months. She would smile and slide in next to him, knowing full well what he meant and loving him for it. He knew better than to bring urgent cases home; Kirsten was too much of a distraction when she finally arrived.

Once he was in bed Kirsten rolled forcefully towards him and buried herself in the welcome arms. 'Hey sweetie,' Sandy said, revelling in being allowed to hold her close; who knew how long this current fit of clinginess would last. 'You okay?' He knew it was a stupid question.

She nodded against his chest but he could feel the irregularity as she breathed against him and knew she was the closest to tears she'd been all week.

'You want to talk?'

A vigorous headshake.

''Kay.' Sandy didn't press her, leaning over to turn out the light before settling with his wife who was soon asleep, one hand grasping his shirt to make sure he couldn't move away.

She didn't stay so peaceful all night. In the early hours Sandy was roused by a quiet whimper and found Kirsten thrashing about in her sleep, tossing one way then the other. 'No!' she mumbled, 'No, no, no, no.'

'It's just me baby,' he said softly.

'Sandy!' he heard her say, but it wasn't a reply. 'Sandy, please, _please _Sandy,' she was begging now and he had no idea what for. He reached across, avoiding her flailing arms, and ran a soothing hand down her cheek; a gesture he knew would wake her. Sure enough her eyes opened groggily, 'Sandy?' she whispered, her heart pounding loudly in her chest.

'I'm here.'

The sound of the low, familiar voice was pure comfort to Kirsten. She tangled her fingers between those at her cheek, trying not to hold too tightly.

'What were you dreaming?'

'I-I don't remember.'

Sandy sighed. 'It's gonna be okay,' he said into the darkness.

'What's if it's not Sandy? What then?' Kirsten asked hysterically, sitting up amidst the tangle of bedclothes. In the strip of light coming in between the blinds Sandy could see her eyes were filled with panic.

'What if I can't get over this? I can't eat, I can't think straight, I can't function. I don't want to do anything; it just all seems so pointless. What if I can't stop thinking like this?'

Her husband slid his arms around his wife and rocked her gently, 'You will honey, I promise. I won't let this break you.'

---

The following night he was woken again but this time it was different. With a strange subconscious knowledge Sandy sensed Kirsten was no longer beside him. The emptiness in his arms woke him and he sat up suddenly.

'Kir?' he called out gently.

No answer. The expanse of bed was cool beside him and he realised she must have been up a while. He tried not to panic as he tiptoed down the stairs and was relieved to see her outline in the dim light. Kirsten was wandering around the house, pausing to straighten pictures, deadheading flowers, peeping through curtains and staring into space. Her movements were so languid and seemingly involuntary that he wondered whether she was sleepwalking. No, he decided, it was just that her mind was elsewhere.

She paused, gazing out across the ocean from the patio doors and he could hear her singing softly. Recognising the tune of an old lullaby she had once sung to Seth he crossed the room and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Startled she turned to him, her eyes a dark fearful blue. 'S-sa-andy?'

'It's ok, only me.'

'Only you,' she breathed.

He eyed her anxiously, she looked feverish. 'Shall we go back to bed sweetheart?'

She shook her head like a child.

'But…'

'Shh!' Kirsten told him, 'do you hear that?'

Sandy listened but there was no sound, 'No honey.'

'I could hear…I thought I could hear…' she trailed off as though in a trance, her eyes distant, body tensed; listening, waiting.

'Kirsten?' he asked nervously.

There was no response.

'_Kirsten_!' he added a note of authority to his voice.

Something clicked and her eyes came back into focus, 'Sometimes I hear her crying,' she said simply before turning and going back upstairs.

Sandy stood at the window for a long time. His wife was more hurt than they thought; could they ever bring her back?

-----

Another night a day or so later Sandy woke up to find Kirsten gone again. When she wasn't sat staring out of the window, as had become her custom late at night when she couldn't sleep after staying in bed most of the day, or in the bathroom, the kitchen or the living room he began to feel uneasy. He drew blanks in the rest of the house, Seth's room and Ryan's included. He couldn't find her outside; the pool house was empty now Ryan was in the house, and was on the point of complete panic when he noticed a scrap of paper on the counter.

_At the beach. Don't worry and don't follow me._

_Kirsten_

Fool. Of course he was going to worry. It was the middle of the night, it was dark, she was depressed. The beach? What was she thinking? The fact that he himself found the beach and the ocean a soothing location or that she had asked him not to come did nothing to stop him immediately following her.

There was a three-quarters moon and on pausing as he reached the length of private beach, he could see the desolate figure as she walked up and down. First one way, then the other. Backwards and forwards along the sand, again and again and again.

After a while he noticed she had wandered much closer to the water's edge than before and he could see the foam of the waves lapping at her feet. She was going to catch cold at this rate but still he didn't move; this was Kirsten's time; he probably shouldn't have come but equally he couldn't stay away. Suddenly he saw her stop and then take a few steps into the ocean, his heart thumped its way up his chest into his throat. She wasn't…? No, she'd never…she wouldn't…god forbid he'd failed her so badly she wanted to… No, his mind was running away with him, even if she ever did it wouldn't be in the ocean; Kirsten and salty water full of fish and weeds? No way. All these thoughts ran like an express train through Sandy's head, even as he was hurrying over the sand to where he wife was standing motionless staring out across the black ocean. She didn't hear his approach until he splashed into the water beside her.

'I _told_ you not to come,' she said without turning round.

'And you really thought that would stop me?'

She heaved a shaky sigh, 'Go home Sandy.'

'No.'

She turned away and resumed her path along the beach. Sandy followed, 'You can do this all night but I'm doing it with you,' he said, matching his steps to hers. They continued like this for a long while, simply walking, side by side, in silence. Some time later Sandy heard her shallow breathing waver and in the moonlight he saw the first of her tears fall from her brimming eyes and trickle down her cheeks. He reached for her hand and was surprised when she didn't pull away. Still not saying anything they continued to walk along the beach, Kirsten taking comfort from the warm hand around her own. It couldn't stop the tears though and soon they became streams rather than trickles and her breath caught in her chest making her shoulders shake. Sandy stopped and drew her towards him, circling her small frame in a tight embrace and feeling each of the sobs that wracked it tug at his own heart. He murmured terms of endearment, he mumbled into her hair, he rambled soothing nonsense, but Kirsten continued to cry brokenly against him. He wittered, he prattled, he burbled, he babbled, he blathered and gibbered and gabbled; anything to calm the growing hysteria.

'It's all my fault,' she choked as the storm subsided through pure exhaustion.

Sandy placed his hand beneath her chin and tilted her head to look at him, 'No it's not,' his voice was firm but Kirsten was beyond listening or thinking rationally.

She shook her head. 'I'm to blame and you must hate me for it.'

'Wrong again, not possible. If you're going to blame anyone blame Caleb for upsetting you, for giving you too much work and generally being a bastard, blame Julie for trying to be helpful and just stressing you out, blame me for not looking after you better, blame Seth for ragging you…'

'I'm not talking about physical blame Sandy,' she said, withdrawing from his embrace and letting her exhausted body sink onto the sand. 'There are hundreds of reasons why it was my fault; I worked too hard, I didn't rest, before I knew I was drinking wine, champagne, coffee, I let myself get stressed, I argued with my dad, I didn't take the age risk seriously, but none of those matter. It was fate that makes it all my fault.'

'I don't understand,' Sandy murmured, squatting down beside her.

'I _know_ you don't!' she snapped, desperate anger in her still-teary eyes, 'and I can't explain, I can't tell you why because…because…' she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, 'because it'll hurt you and you really will hate me.' With that, her resolve broke again and she buried her head in her arms.

Her husband gazed at the forlorn figure beside him and longed to hold her and make everything right with the world. But Kirsten's world was shattered and this time Sandy wasn't sure he could rebuild it the way it was before.

'Nothing you could ever say or do could make me hate you; I love you too much, _so much_.'

She turned wide blue eyes towards him and searched for the truth in his face, not trusting his words alone.

This wasn't his Kirsten Sandy thought suddenly. She didn't trust him, wasn't sure of his complete unconditional love. She looked young and vulnerable, not the professional Kirsten Cohen who was always in control. Part of it was the tearstained face free of makeup, the loose ponytail that held back her hair and her simple clothes, but her haunted eyes were the main sign. She was battling with old ghosts, frightened and alone.

'_I love you_,' his eyes told her and she slowly dragged her own away. She had to tell him but already the painful memories were choking her throat. There was no going back now; this revelation was going to change everything. Change the way her husband saw her. He didn't deserve this but he deserved to know. She should have told him long ago.

'There's a reason I lost that baby…' Kirsten paused and looked out across the dark expanse of empty ocean, 'it was fate…justice.'

Sandy didn't dare move, hardly dare breathe as Kirsten began to speak, hindered only by sobs that caused tears flood down her face again, and her shoulders to heave. Began to share with him the secret and the guilt she had carried for so long. Kirsten Cohen was finally letting go.

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Let's play hangman/

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	13. Nineteen Eighty Eight

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

---  
Sorry for the wait. I suddenly wrote more! Some of this gets quite, not graphic (because it's the long awaited abortion storyline and that would be weird), but I don't know…detailed, personal. Just so you know.

---

Chapter 13: Nineteen-Eighty-Eight  


Kirsten took a long breath, gulping air as though she was about to be sick. 'I was pregnant a long time ago,' she spoke into the still night air once she had regained control. 'But…I couldn't go through with it. I took a life so a life was taken from me. I feel – I feel as though I deserved it. I didn't give the other baby a chance and so…I didn't deserve another one; we're lucky to have Seth.'

'When?' Sandy asked hoarsely, unable to stop himself despite the anguish he could see on his wife's face.

'Nineteen-eighty-eight,' she whispered.

'_What_? But…we were married; we'd had Seth by then.'

Kirsten could only nod, silently pressing her eyelids closed to try and stop further tears.

'But…you, we…that means…' Sandy stumbled, his words failing to keep up with his scattered thoughts. 'You've said things before, almost nothing but something. I let them go; didn't believe…didn't think it was... All this time I thought, if there _was_ anything, it was something to do with Jimmy. Seventeen, scared, alone, not married, not with me and Seth.' He gave a dry sob that was filled with bitter, disbelieving laughter. 'It was my child. _Our_ child. And you killed it.'

Kirsten thought she had spent all her tears but two new rivers forced their way under her eyelids and down her face as she recoiled at the harsh truth and the venom in her husband's tone.

'Why Kirsten? Why did you do it?' he was asking, tilting her chin to face him without the usually gentleness in his touch. She struggled to meet his eyes, her heart lurching at the hurt in their stormy blue depths.

'I-I,' she stuttered before breaking contact and taking deep shuddering breaths. But Sandy, never patient at the best of times was getting angry. 'Come on Kirsten,' he snapped. 'It's taken seventeen years to get to this; I'm not waiting any longer. Seventeen years, that's a hell of a long time. You've lied to me almost our entire marriage. What else have lied about? What other secrets have you kept? Does this marriage mean anything to you Kirsten?'

His wife's head jerked up at that, an angry light in her previously blank, teary eyes. 'This marriage? Does it _mean_ _anything to me_? I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose everything. This marriage _is _everything. Remember the fights we had back then? Tell me, do you honestly think we could have got past this?'

There was no answer.

'See? I couldn't risk it. What was I to do? Should I tell you and risk losing the best thing that ever happened to me, risk losing you? Or keep quiet; keep a potentially devastating secret, keep suffering for the rest of my life? There wasn't any choice Sandy.'

'I still don't understand _why_?' he spat. 'Why you had to do that. Why you couldn't tell me before.'

Kirsten looked at her husband like he was a fool. He was a bleeding lawyer for God's sake yet he couldn't see the defence facts staring him in the face. He had a selective memory or something, nostalgia sugar-coating the early years of their marriage.

'I was twenty one,' she began to remind him; 'still trying to finish college with a three-month old baby I could hardly cope with. We were mortgaged over our heads, living in that tumbledown excuse for a house…'

'You loved that house.'

'It was damp, the plumbing was bad, the roof leaked, the doors didn't shut properly, we had an infestation of termites…I think 'love' is rather a strong word.'

'Point taken.'

'You were always working, you had to; I know that. But we were just scraping a living off the pittance of a salary you earned for twelve hours hard graft at the PD's office, all day, everyday, weekends, holidays… There was no way we could raise another child.'

Sandy hung his head. That was true; they'd struggled enough just the three of them, another baby would have toppled the entire equation. 'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked, knowing at the time he would have probably put his head in his hands and cried. Twenty-six and in more debt than let him sleep at night. As much as he hated Kirsten's decision and heartbreaking as it was, he was beginning to understand why she did it. He would like to pretend there would have been a magical solution with the four of them living happily ever after but the reality would have been very different; more debt, longer hours, smaller, more tumbledown house, worry, stress, fights and, God forbid, Kirsten eventually high-tailing it back to Newport; his wife and children gone, his life in tatters.

His wife's voice shook him from his exaggeratedly sombre reflections.

'You know why, I know you do. Two years married, two exhausted parents, too much debt, and then two children? You stressed, me with post-natal depression again? I couldn't do that to you, just out of law school with the world before you and then me, with a baby, possibly two. You'd made enough sacrifices as it was.'

'But it was your life too; you made sacrifices, bigger than mine. You gave up an entire life, almost lost your dad over it…'

'No, he lost me. And I was glad to get away from it all. Escape Newport, not be a trust-fund princess. Anyway, it wasn't just about you. I couldn't do it. I couldn't deal with two children under one; I felt incompetent enough with just Seth.'

'You're a wonderful mother.'

'No. I'm not. You were at work Sandy you don't know how hard it was for me. There was this tiny thing that I loved more than I knew was possible but was entirely dependent on me. The idea of another baby; another child to love and worry about that much, to have to care for, was the most terrifying prospect.'

'So you just…'

'No Sandy. I didn't _just_ do anything. I thought about it. I agonized over that decision, I cried the moment I even thought of it. But I didn't see any other option. I know think there would have been but…there wasn't.'

'Maybe you're right.'

Kirsten didn't respond, staring out to sea, eyes glazed, her voice distant. 'I left Seth with our neighbour. It was the first time I'd left him that long. She said he cried the whole time. There was that guilt too. I went right across town, felt sick, travelling all that way on a bus. Or maybe that was the morning sickness or guilt, I don't know.'

'I'm sorry you had to do that, you had to go alone.'

'It was…okay, the place. I had the money my dad sent as a wedding present. The guilt gift you called it, said he was trying to buy my love. I agreed. We put it away, said we wouldn't use it. You never asked about it again. So I used it to go somewhere half decent; the horror stories you hear about those clinics…I guess I am spoilt. I didn't want to go anyplace where it could go wrong or I'd catch anything…I-I didn't want it to hurt any more than it already did.' She paused, the tears drying on her face.

'There were forms…lots of forms and people asking stupid questions and a machine, whining. Whining, like the noise Seth made before he began to breathe. How fucking ironic was that?'

Sandy was jolted by the swear word. It emphasised how everything was wrong with this conversation, not least the fact that they were sat on the sand which he had trudged over so many mornings of their marriage on his way to surf, blissfully unaware of this secret.

'It was uncomfortable. That's all. And humiliating. The looks I got because I still looked pregnant. I think people thought I was there to have some kind of illegally late termination.' Her hysteria broke in a strangled laugh which was hurriedly stifled. 'I was still breastfeeding Seth and I hadn't thought to take anything with me, you know…so there I was, right before and right after I aborted our second child in a bathroom cubicle thinking of our baby. Thinking of his baby smell, his excessive, downy black hair, the feel of his tiny fingernails scraping against my breast, his little mouth pursed, sucking. Thinking of all the things I love about him at this sickeningly inappropriate time so that I could relieve the pressure on my chest.' Kirsten's head was back on her knees again, her voice muffled. 'I don't know why I'm saying all this. It's horrible. You'll hate me.'

He didn't respond and it frightened her.

'Afterwards I was sick. I was sick until there was nothing left. I took the bus home, empty. Seth was still screaming, he was hungry and wanted feeding but it wouldn't come. That was the day I learnt to make formula milk.'

He wondered whether if he thought hard enough he would remember point when he knew Seth would feed from a bottle. It was better not to think about it.

'I sat in the kitchen as Seth fell asleep, rocking him, promising I'd never hurt him. Promising I loved him. Promising myself that things would be okay. I cried until his blanket was soaked. I cried for three days straight. I guess you figured it was the post-natal depression.'

'I should have realised.'

'No. It all happened so early on you couldn't have known.'

'Do you wish…?'

'Do I wish I hadn't had to?' Kirsten was back in control now, breathing forced into a steady rhythm, eyes red-rimmed but no longer filled with falling tears. 'Yes, but I did have to and I did it. I don't regret the decision I made, I've lived with it, but…can you?'

Sandy looked away, one hand absently cupping handfuls of sand and letting it trickle through his fingers. 'I don't know,' he said at last. 'I don't exactly blame you. I mean, I understand _why_ but I can't…forgive you, not just yet, I don't even know when. Not when I think how much we wanted a brother or sister for Seth. I'm sorry Kirsten but right now it feels like you cheated me out of a child.'

Kirsten swallowed, 'Do you hate me?' she asked, her voice very small.

'No, and I still love you so there's no need to ask. I'll always love you.'

She gave an almost smile but knew with a sickening certainty that she'd really hurt Sandy this time, both with the abortion and not telling him. He felt very distant sat next to her on that wide strip of sand, staring out across the water. But he didn't shift away when her head sank onto his shoulder and sometime that night he must have carried her home and put her to bed.  
Somehow he still loved her.

-----

Sandy was sat at the counter when the boys came in, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep, a cold mug of coffee in his hands. He'd been sat like this most of the night. 'How's mom this morning?' Seth posed the now familiar question. His father paused for a moment, expertly schmearing a bagel with cream cheese before answering, 'She's sleeping; we were up pretty late last night,

'Ugh, too much information dad,' Seth cut in at this point.

Sandy gave a rueful smile, 'Not like that Seth.'

'Phew.'

'It was an…interesting night, but I think perhaps, we might have turned the corner.'

'Why's that?'

'She cried last night.'

'For the first time?' Ryan asked, looking up from his textbook in surprise.

'Yeah.'

'Oh.'

'And are you ok?' Seth was studying his dad, suddenly realising it was eight forty-five and his dad was still sat in his robe.

'Uh what? Yeah…just tired, been up thinking.'

'About?'

He shouldn't just say it, he knew he shouldn't. Kirsten would probably kill him, but even as he thought that the words were tumbling out of his mouth. 'Your mom had an abortion.' The boys looked shocked and confused and he realised what that sounded like. 'When Seth was only little.'

'Kirsten never told you?'

Sandy shook his head, 'I shouldn't have said anything so I'd better be the one to tell her you know. We'll talk about it later ok?'

His sons nodded and the topic was closed abruptly when Kirsten arrived in the kitchen.

'I have a bitch of a history paper to write,' Seth declared into the silence.

'Uh, yeah,' Ryan agreed, a little too slowly, causing Kirsten to eye both boys closely as they headed out and then turn to her husband. 'What did you say?'

'The boys know.'

'_What_? Sandy, how could you?'

'Contrary to you I don't like lying to people.'

'No, you call it attorney-client privilege.'

'Don't bring Rebecca into this,' Sandy said grouchily, the lack of sleep not improving his perspective on last night's revelation.

'Or Lindsay or the Heights case?' Kirsten questioned.

Her husband glared, 'Can we please not go over old ground?'

Kirsten sighed. They could do this forever. Go round in circles, fighting over the same old ground, or they could try and get past this, together.

'You're right,' she said wearily, sitting down at the table. 'I'm sorry, for everything.'

'I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have told the boys like that…'

She shook her head and rested it on her hands, 'They had to know and I don't think I could say it again.' His wife looked very small and fragile again Sandy noted and he stretched an arm round her shoulder, subconsciously doing the thing she wanted most.

'Do you feel any better after last night?'

'I guess talking about what happened and crying kinda helped,' she admitted.

But there were many more tears to shed. That night had simply opened the floodgates.

-----

AN. Ok, I admit it, I sensationalised the early years of the Kandy marriage…I don't suppose they were _quite_ that poor but whatever; maybe there was a depression or a recession or whatever its called lol, or Caleb was so mad he didn't let Kirsten have _any _money ever, or the PD's office paid new employees like… nothing. I don't know, I'm taking artistic liberties here, just embrace them!

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If you review I'll be eternally grateful.

(Is this positive blackmail?)

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	14. Endless

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

Chapter: 14: Endless

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Hey lovely people of the fanfiction world. Big apologies for the delay; between an OC marathon, the 2006 Brosnanathon, results and staying up till 5am far too often this chapter just kept not happening. I had to reorganise the next 5 chapters and add more to this scene to make it a whole chapter so as not to mess up those already finished! Thanks for bearing with me. Good luck to anyone with A/AS level results!

So damn tired so haven't properly checked this. Sloppy I know. I'll do it tomorrow!

---

'You've got a check up with Dr Marks this morning haven't you?'

Kirsten nodded, taking the coffee Sandy handed her.

'Do you want me to come?'

'I'm not made of glass Sandy; I think I can manage,' she snapped. Sandy opened his mouth then closed it again without saying anything.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, tears filling her eyes. Since she'd cried last night she didn't seem to be able to stop. It felt as though the moment she'd opened her eyes they were swimming. She didn't feel in control and hated it. She couldn't seem to keep her temper in check either and poor Sandy was suffering the brunt of it.

'No worries,' he said, pecking her on the cheek, 'I get it.'

She sighed; it was more than she did.

---

But there were a lot of things she didn't seem to understand. Her tears for one. Crying in front of anyone, bar Sandy occasionally, was not something Kirsten Cohen did. It was a sign of weakness and yet she had walked into the doctor's office, been asked how she was feeling and burst into tears. It was highly embarrassing, frightening in fact. She wasn't this person. Was this what it was like? You lose a baby and then completely lose it yourself? Several minutes after the storm subsided, she discovered that Dr Marks now knew about the nightmares, the visions, the abortion, and she had no recollection of sobbing out such confessions.

The doctor had shaken her head worriedly and turned to the computer, bringing Kirsten's records onscreen. 'This is important; I'd like to discuss it after the examination.'

She had nodded and silently accepted the thermometer, blood pressure cuff and other paraphernalia. Then the questions began. Conscious admissions didn't come so easily and the doctor had to resort to listing her suspicions.

'Obviously you're under a lot of emotional strain with your loss and the issues it brings up with the abortion. This often manifests itself in nightmares, sleeping problems…have you experienced the latter also?'

Kirsten would have smiled if she could remember how. The endless sleepless nights were evident on her face. She had woken early that morning from another nightmare. The world was in that still, silent limbo before the sunrise. Not dark, not daylight. A pale, smudged, watercolour landscape met her at the window, muted colours, greyness. She padded into the bathroom, not wanting to see the sun rise and make the world that should stay grey streak into bright technicolour. Her reflection was smudged too, or maybe that was because she couldn't focus on it. Couldn't meet the vacant eyes. She looked old she thought; her face thin and pale, stubborn mauve shadows ringing her eyes, even her hair looked lifeless and lacklustre. She still felt clammy after waking sweat soaked from her nightmare and she languidly undressed and climbed into the shower. Ten minutes under the spray didn't prove refreshing, mainly because the noise meant she let herself cry. Now she just felt heavy and still not properly warm. Sandy was still dead to the world; the smudges beneath his eyes echoed hers. He was exhausted with grief, looking after her and trying to keep up with a full-time job.

She lay down beside him, pulling the covers up to block out the growing brightness, her thoughts and the memories she didn't want to remember. She remained in her cocoon, sleeping fitfully, eyes pressed tight shut against tears, ignoring the sunshine and her husband who stretched and departed as soon as he realised she was awake. Today seemed like another good day to not get out of bed.

'Can't sleep,' Kirsten muttered. 'But can't get out of bed.'

'Are you finding it difficult to function normally? To follow a regular schedule? To start making peace?' The doctor questioned in quick succession, reeling off various scenarios and reading Kirsten's face when the woman couldn't bring herself to nod. Eventually she stopped and glanced at her notepad.

'I'm concerned that you're showing…depressive tendencies and anything I prescribe simply to help you sleep won't help in fighting that, could make it worse.'

'Worse?'

'Treating both means a substantial drug undertaking.'

'I don't care. My husband will but I don't.'

'Well it's as you wish but you also need to accept that it's early days yet, perhaps look into natural remedies or such like. The doctor began talking sympathetically about 'time' and 'therapy'. Kirsten felt sick.

'I don't want to talk about it,' she forced out. 'I just want it to stop.'

'I'm afraid it's not that easy.'

'Please. Just something, to make it all stop for a few hours at least. You know what I saw last night? Last night there were faceless babies in my head. Not even babies, just the beginnings of them. They didn't have mouths and yet they were screaming. They didn't have eyes and yet they were staring at me. There were two with scars on their chests, over where their hearts would have been. Their hearts were missing; I could see through the translucent skin. Those two babies were mine.'

---

'So, um...' Sandy began hesitantly that afternoon, having come home for lunch to see his wife. 'How…what did the doctor say?'

'Not a lot.'

'How are you feeling?'

'Fine.'

'What are those?' he asked, gesturing at the prescription bags in her hands.

'Medication.'

'There's a lot.'

'I had preeclampsia Sandy, I'm still on antibiotics.'

'And the others?'

'What is this? The LSAT?'

'Honey…I just…'

'You're not gonna approve so you may as well not know.'

'OK now you're worrying me.' The concern in his eyes got to her and she relented, slightly, glancing at the labels. 'It's just Trazodone and Estazolam.'

'Because that's really helpful.'

'It's what it says,' she said nonchalantly, turning to leave.

'Wait, Kirsten…Trazodone? Didn't you take that after you had Seth? When you were…'

She turned back to face him, her face emotionless. 'What? Depressed? Yeah, I did.'

Kirsten walked off. The conversation was evidently over.

Sandy watched her go and sighed. The moment he was back in the privacy of his office he reached for the phone, tapping in the now familiar number. Fortunately the doctor was between patients and Sandy was immediately put through.

'Hello?'

'Hi, it's Sandy Cohen, Kirsten Cohen's husband.

'Sandy,' she said pleasantly. 'Is everything alright?'

'Yes… and no; Kirsten saw you this morning didn't she? And…um, well she doesn't really want to say anything about it so I wondered what you could tell me.'

'Well I'm sure you know all about confidentiality,'

Sandy gave a sympathetic laugh before Dr Marks continued. They'd known each other a long time. She was the family doctor. He knew she would tread the fine line between appeasing his anxieties and remaining loyal to the code of practise and his wife's privacy.

'But I think this is a little different. I can speak generally. Kirsten's healing physically, emotionally, not so much. I suppose you know that though'

'Yeah,' Sandy agreed, asking desperately, 'Is there anything I can do?'

'These things take time Mr Cohen, just be supportive, talk to her.'

'That's kind of a problem; communicating her feelings isn't exactly a favourite pastime of Kirsten's.'

'There's always counselling. I did broach the subject but…'

'I can guess the response. I'll have another go. But I can't make any promises. Another thing though…the pills you gave her.'

'She said you wouldn't be happy.'

'It's not like that, I just worry.'

'They're mainstream drugs. Estazolam is a mild sedative, barely stronger than Nightol or something you can buy at the drugstore.'

'She doesn't need sleeping pills.'

'She thinks she does.'

'And you don't?'

'Sandy. Your wife needs more rest than she's getting for recovery and if this helps I'm happy to prescribe them, at least for a couple of weeks. That's all.'

'I guess can't deny she's not sleeping.'

'I'm not saying they will put an end to the nightmares or even borderline hallucinations she's having, but they should help her relax.'

'Relax. Don't know if we know that one anymore.'

'You know if you're having problems too…'

'No,' he responded sharply. 'I mean, thanks but…we have two teenage sons. Someone has to sleep with half an ear open.'

The doctor laughed. 'Don't push yourself too hard, you're under emotional pressure as well. But going back to Kirsten, the other drug, Trazodone…'

'Is an anti-depressant. Kirsten took it after our son was born.'

'I saw that in her records, so I knew she wouldn't have an adverse reaction.'

'That's not the point though is it?'

'I think I know where you're going with this. Kirsten needing them isn't any reflection on you or her, or on how supportive you're being.'

Sandy didn't answer.

'With or without them you're going to have to be patient. She's still going to be upset but this way it should be easier to cope. They won't start working for maybe a month or so though so keep the Kleenex handy and try to get her to open up to you. She was adamant she didn't want to talk to the psychologist.'

'I don't know what else I can do.'

'It's not up to you to fix this Sandy. Kirsten will either come round or…'

'Or what? She's like this forever?'

'No. Or she'll come to terms with things by herself.'

'I don't want her to have to do this alone.'

'She knows she's not. I just mean, eventually, the reconciliation is going to have to come from within.'

'I guess,' Sandy admitted, a little bewildered by the doctor's psychobabble. 'Well thanks doctor.'

---

He held off the conversation until the evening when they were alone. Kirsten was sat at the table in their room watching the sun set on the ocean horizon. He paused in the doorway taking in two of the most beautiful sights on earth. 'Hey,' he said softly as he sat down beside her.

'Hey,' she echoed, 'how was work?'

Sandy noticed she didn't listen to a word of his answer; the question had merely been posed as a distraction.

'Talk to me,' he said, tired of watching her secret thoughts flit across her face as though he wasn't there.

'I'm talking to you now aren't I?'

'You know what I mean.'

'Perhaps I don't want to talk about it.'

'But if you're not talking, you're not dealing. And if we're not talking, we're not okay.'

Kirsten fixed Sandy with an open stare; 'Things haven't been okay for a long time.'

'I know.'

'And you think talking is gonna put everything right?'

'It's a start.'

'I don't know Sandy, I just don't know anymore.'

'I was thinking perhaps you could…go see someone…you know, talk about things.'

'You're sending me to a shrink?'

'I'm simply saying it might help, you're obviously not coping and you won't talk to me…'

'Why do we always have to be talking? I've told you I don't want to talk. I've talked enough.'

'No you haven't and now you're going to hide behind a load of pills and potions.'

'You don't know what it's like inside my head Sandy.'

'No but we could figure it out,' he offered, dropping the drugs question for another day, another argument when they were less emotionally exhausted. 'We could both go to therapy, together.'

'You go if you want to. I can't. I don't want to admit it hurts. I really wanted that baby Sandy, and now she's gone. I'm just supposed to cope with that?' She stood up and turned her back on him. 'I'm going to bed.'

Sandy ran a hand across his face; he didn't know how long he could do this. Watch his wife spiral and not be able to save her.

-----

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If anyone is still reading this godforsaken drivel please give me a wave via the review function! And please state whether you're waving or drowning lol!

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	15. A Million Times

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

Chapter: 15: A Million Times

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Here I am again. Feeling kinda messed up so I might go to bed. But before I do here is the next chapter.

---

By the weekend Ryan's monosyllabic updates were failing to satisfy Caleb, who, against all his good intention to give Kirsten space, attempted a visit. He dispensed with knocking to avoid the self-appointed jailer, Sandy, but to no avail. He was creeping along the hallway when the front door opened and Sandy himself came into view behind him, briefcase in hand. He looked tired Caleb noted, watching the younger man pull lethargically at his tie. He gave a start when he saw Caleb and squared his shoulders.

'Where have you been?' his father-in-law jumped in with a question before Sandy could ask one of his own.

'I had to go into work, thought I'd get it over with early which Kirsten was still sleeping, or pretending to,' he answered distractedly. 'Anywhere, more to the point what are you doing here?'

'For a witty repartee with you, why else?'

'Well I don't have the energy and seeing as you let yourself in you can show yourself out.'

'Sanford…'

'I don't care how sorry you are I just want you out of my house.'

'Your house?'

'That kind of attitude isn't gonna help your case.'

'Old habit; riling you, I didn't mean it.'

'Just like you didn't mean to hit her, to work her off her feet, to make her lose the baby?' Sandy asked angrily, forgetting to keep his voice down so as not to disturb his wife.

'It was an accident, I didn't mean to, I didn't know,' Caleb shot back urgently, his own voice rising in volume.

'Stop making excuses.'

'You couldn't tell me she was pregnant. I'm her boss for God's sake, as well as her father. I have a right to know these things.'

'You're her boss first, that's the problem. The Newport Group comes first, then your family. You sacrificed her for it; she sacrificed herself and our daughter. Why I'm even having this conversation I don't even know.'

'Please just let me see her.'

'I just lost a daughter. You for one should know how that feels.'

'Sandy…'

'I lost my daughter, I almost lost my wife and the way things are going it could still happen, emotionally this time.'

Caleb bowed his head Sandy's words cutting him like a knife despite his thick skin. His failure with his daughters was his Achilles heel. He sighed and spoke, his voice low, uneven, lacking the usual curtness. 'I know there's nothing I can say, nothing you want to hear but, honestly, I'm sorry Sandy.'

His son-in-law stood, still breathing heavily from the argument looking at Caleb, hating the fact it was now his move.

'I…I don't know if I can accept that, I'm still too angry, he stumbled, 'but…as little as the sentiment means, thanks Cal.'

'So are you going to let me see her?'

'Look, the last thing Kirsten needs right now is a run-in with you, just give her some time.'

'She can't avoid me forever.'

'If it was up to me she would.'

'But it isn't up to you.'

'Or you,' Sandy shot back immediately.

'I'm her father.'

'And a fat lot of good it's done her.'

The tension between the two men continued to build, a soft voice from the doorway at the end of the hall only serving to accentuate it.

'Sandy? It's okay. I can handle this.'

He was immediately beside her, helping to tie the dressing gown around her small waist and pressing a kiss into her hair. She shrugged him off, her father watching their interaction with interest.

'We'll be in the kitchen,' she told him, looking past both of them, eyes dark and unfathomable. Sandy didn't look happy but complied, walking them to the kitchen and then ducking out.

'I'll be just out here if you need me.'

Kirsten nodded mutely, moving so the kitchen island was between her and her father.

'Be nice,' Sandy warned Caleb as he left and then they were alone, or semi-alone with Sandy eavesdropping outside.

To his surprise Kirsten didn't shout or scream. There were no obscenities or accusations. She never said she blamed him, she didn't need to; it was there beneath her words and in those eyes. There were no tears. Instead there was a strange absence of anger; Kirsten was listless, voice slow, monotonous, empty. The watercolour image of the daughter who had always been painted in vibrant acrylic stood before him and he found a lump in his throat.

'I'm sorry Kirsten.'

'It doesn't matter dad,' she mumbled, looking right through him

'But it does…'

Kirsten closed her eyes, 'Please, just go, I don't want to talk to anyone but particularly not you right now, if ever.'

Her father looked from the eyelids that almost told him more than her eyes did when they were open, to the fingers gripping the countertop so tightly the knuckles were standing out in tight, white ridges. The feeling of having walked into a brick wall that he had experienced in that moment of realisation on the phone with Seth returned and Caleb turned slowly, feeling light-headed and left the kitchen.

'Did you know she didn't like me calling her Kiki?' he asked Sandy on his way out.

Sandy looked at his father-in-law with a mixture of disbelief, disgust, laughter and sadness. 'I knew the day I met you, I've seen her face every time you've said it for the past twenty years, I've heard her complain a million times.'

'Why didn't you say, why didn't she say?'

'I don't know,' he said. 'Because you're Caleb Nichol I guess, no one messes with Caleb Nichol.'

'Humph.' Caleb gave a rueful smile, 'Not always true.'

Sandy attempted a grimace in place of a smile, knowing the comment was aimed at him.

'I can't lose another daughter Sandy.' He said becoming serious again and reaching for his coat, 'Let me know if she ever considers talking to me again.'

'Don't count on it.'

Caleb nodded sadly, lingering in the doorway. 'I know. I'm s-.'

'Just go,' was the reply before the door shut in his face.

-----

'He apologised Sandy,' Kirsten burst out when her husband reappeared. Her face was filled with shock and disbelief. 'My dad, he said sorry. He never apologises, he _never_ blames himself, for _anything_.'

'Perhaps he finally feels guilty,'

'But…it's not really his fault though I suppose,' she admitted, tears welling up in her eyes.

'I beg to disagree; he purposely antagonised you, he loaded work on you, he stressed you out, he upset you, knocked you over, albeit accidentally, but still, he spends all his time putting you down and now you've paid for it.'

'I just don't like hating him. He didn't know Sandy, I didn't tell him when I should have done. I shouldn't be angry but I can't help it. I shouldn't hate him but I do and I hate the fact he's apologised and now it's up to me.'

'I think that's justified.'

'But you love being angry with my father. You always hate him.'

'Oh honey I was doing it a long time before it became popular.' This raised a half-smile on his wife's face before the worried look replaced it again. 'I don't know what to do Sandy. I have to go work but I'm not talking to my boss. Can't quit, but can't go back there. This is all so stupid.'

'I know sweetie,' Sandy agreed, sliding a tentative arm around her, 'but you don't have to worry about it right now because you're not going back to work yet.'

'Sandyyy,' she moaned, 'I have to.'

'You don't. I want you for myself for a little while and you need some time.' There was no way he was letting her try to brush over this and the Caleb problem was going to take time to solve. Another week at home wouldn't hurt. 'You can't throw yourself back into the rat race this fast.'

'What am I supposed to do all day?'

'Hang out with the boys after school, go shopping, visit the spa with Julie, take some more Yogalates classes,' he suggested, jiggling his eyebrows to make her smile.

'But I don't want to do any of those things. I want something that actually occupies my brain.'

'You're not…'

'Not what? Well enough? Sandy I'm fine.'

'I was going to say ready. Please, you deserve a vacation.'

'I don't _do_ vacations,' she muttered, thinking that if she only had she might not have lost the baby.

-----

That weekend Sandy tried to keep Kirsten's mind from Caleb and the office but he knew she was fretting about being angry at her father and the desire to be back at her desk come Monday morning. Over his dead body.

Saturday night they were lying tangled on the couch as the credits rolled on the movie they'd all been watching. It had almost felt like old times; Kirsten falling asleep mid-plot, Sandy making sarcastic comments, Seth laughing inappropriately and Ryan unable to keep the grin off his face at the prospect of a family night. However, things were quite as picture-perfect as they appeared. The boys had agonised over movie choices for a good hour, struggling to find something that wouldn't convulse Kirsten into immediate tears and then it had taken the pair of them several minutes to persuade her to join them. When she finally agreed, having avoided them for most of the week because she hated them seeing her like this, she sat as far as possible from Sandy as the sofa would allow. He had offered an arm and been steadfastly ignored. Kirsten was still shy of physical contact; knowing the slightest sympathy or comfort made her want to cry and she was tired of crying. Her husband had attempted to be stealth, shuffling towards her every time he changed position and she didn't have the heart to remonstrate. She knew as she drifted off, head slipping onto his shoulder, that he would gently manoeuvre her onto his lap and the part of her that secretly wanted it, let it happen.

Therefore it wasn't a surprise to wake up with her head resting on Sandy's chest when roused by the triumphant finale music. Seth groaned and rolled over from his spot on the floor, watching as Ryan crawled over to the TV and ejected the disk; he was still the only one who could operate the DVD player.

'Awake enough for a round on the play-station?' Seth asked.

'Yeah, I guess,' Ryan replied, 'I should probably go study though.'

'It's _Saturday_ Ryan, no studying, Saturday night is Seth-Ryan time, study tomorrow.'

'Seth…'

'We're _brothers _Ryan, and you know what brothers do?'

'Sail?'

'Well yes, that too, but brothers also play play-station.'

'I have a test.'

'Play-station, play-station, _play-station_!' he said in that weird whispering way of his and Ryan threw his hands up in defeat, 'OK, ok, I'll do it tomorrow. Right now I'm gonna kick your ass!'

He glanced guiltily at Kirsten but she had her eyes closed and was seemingly oblivious to everything but the hand that Sandy was running through her hair.

'Come _on_,' Seth yelled, already halfway to the pool house.

Sandy rolled his eyes at Ryan and declined his offer of tidying up, 'Go have fun Ryan; Kirsten and I'll do it later, Seth needs a good thrashing at play-station and you're the man to do it!'

As soon as Ryan was safely ensconced in the pool house, Sandy bent to kiss his wife, nervously; expecting the gesture to be rejected. To his surprise Kirsten opened her eyes and smiled lazily at him, 'Boys gone?'

'The call of the play-station,' Sandy told her, sweeping her hair up and gently placing a kiss on the back of her neck. She shivered delightedly and reached up tousle his hair, moving his head towards her own. Their lips met in a flurry of kisses, tender at first and then more passionate as Kirsten fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

'Perhaps we should continue this upstairs,' Sandy suggested, knowing Seth was likely to appear and ruin the moment. Kirsten froze, a dark flicker of fear appearing in her blue eyes. It was as though she'd just woken up, suddenly remembered and at once she withdrew from the contact.

'I should…tidy up…' she mumbled, drawing away but Sandy kept his arms around her, 'I didn't mean to press you Kir, I just thought you'd want to avoid a run-in with Seth.'

He felt her relax slightly and took the opportunity to settle back down with her, 'Let's just stay here a while.'

'Sorry,' she said quietly, resting against his chest again. He could feel her heart racing against him and ran a reassuring hand down her back, 'It's okay sweetie, that's fine,'

She snuggled against him and he began to feel drowsy as he listened to her breathing evening out. He didn't realise when she'd fallen asleep because he had too.

-----

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AN. Sorry if these chapters seem kind of bitty I'm struggling to string the parts that span these two weeks together!

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Jump on the review bandwagon. It's free!

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	16. Second Chances

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

Chapter: 16: Second Chances

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AN. July 2005: Not a very happy first part of chapter – sorry – feeling a little depressed at the mo – endoftermitus, v tired after sports day and a bit disappointed about not being a prefect…kinda knew I wouldn't (long story, big palaver) but I still hoped! Ah well…can be a rebel now lol!

AN. August 2006: I love all my darling reviewers. Sorry this was a little late – I got called into work randomly. Extra long to make up for it.

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Sandy Cohen was dreaming, only he didn't know he was asleep. The scene playing in his head was, at first, an exact replica of real life.

He and Kirsten were sat at the kitchen table, two mugs of decaf coffee (Sandy enduring a sympathy cup) and that morning's crossword in front of them.

'Renaissance painter, seven letters?'

'Raphael.'

'Five-letter word for 'content?'

'Oh-my-gosh!'

'Don't think that's it honey, Sandy said teasingly, not looking up.

'I didn't mean the _crossword_.' His wife spoke breathlessly, her eyes alight and a pink tinge across her cheeks. 'I felt her move. Sandy, she _moved_.'

Sandy's hands went immediately to the small bump, still secretly hidden by her clothes. 'I can't feel anything,' he complained jokingly, grinning at his wife's delighted face. He loved her being this happy, seeing her smiling face, hearing the laughter in her voice. They should have had another baby years ago.

'You probably won't; it's early yet and right now it's just like butterflies but lower down.'

He shifted his hands lower, lovingly smoothing them across her belly. She smiled self-consciously and rested her head against his, their lips meeting softly until Sandy broke away suddenly.

He'd felt it. Barely anything, just something, but so much at the same time; a slight fluttering under her skin, proof the baby was there.

'I felt it too,' he declared excitedly, leaning down and talking to her stomach.

'She can't hear you yet,' Kirsten giggled, 'you'll have to be patient.'

Patient. Patience. Waiting.

He hated waiting.

Suddenly he was in a hospital. The waiting room instantly recognisable by the ugly orange chairs.

Waiting for the baby.

He heard a newborn cry.

He woke and found his wife sobbing next to him.

---

Kirsten woke in the middle of the night again; it was becoming a regular occurrence. It seemed as though the sleeping pills were better at making her drowsy during the day and early evening. The early hours were her new hell. In the darkness her thoughts crowded into her head and she'd try miserably to stop her silent sobs shaking the bed and waking Sandy. He always knew though; often he was already awake, lying staring at the ceiling. And when he heard her uneven breathing he'd only feel worse; those nights even Sandy's comfort wasn't enough in the engulfing blackness and whether he held her or not she would cry herself into exhaustion. Sometimes she let him try to soothe her but usually she was too upset and angry, petulantly shrugging his arms away. They would lie side by side, separated by a wide strip of mattress, Kirsten's quiet tears the only sound in the heavy silence between them. He could never decide which was worse, Kirsten accepting his embrace and still crying helplessly, or being turned away. Both options left him feeling useless, angry words he could live with, inconsolable crying just got to him.

-----

Night after night was the same and Sandy had to admit that although Kirsten had broken her silence she hadn't come to terms with any of it. The realisation that things were seeming to get worse rather than better was frightening, making him postpone taking action. However, a couple of days later he was forced to act.

The combination of grief, hormones and drugs; the medicine from the hospital, doctor-prescribed anti-depressants viewed sceptically by Sandy, and sleeping pills at Kirsten's own demand, meant she wasn't herself. More often than not the sleeping pills wouldn't kick in until it was too late and she was physically exhausted, then she'd drag herself groggily up in the morning only to cry herself into confusion because she was so tired and upset. So tired but unable to sleep for the guilty thoughts chasing each other round and round inside her head, for the fidgeting fingers betraying how much she really wanted, no, needed, a drink, for the guilt that wouldn't let her shut her eyes because of who she saw on her eyelids.

---

Sandy was running an exasperated hand through his already wild hair as he frowned at a case file that should have been closed last week but he hadn't been able to concentrate on. His concentration was broken again by Kirsten rushing into his office. He leapt up at the sight of her flushed face, 'Kirsten honey, are you okay?'

She nodded, waving him away and nervously held out a plain brown envelope. He took it, still concerned but registering her shining eyes and the smile playing on her lips. He opened the envelope and drew out a single piece of card. He frowned, struggling to focus on the grainy image, 'Wh-what is it?'

'What does it look like?' she asked breathlessly.

'Well it _looks_ like a scan picture, but…' he shook his head in disbelief as she nodded. 'Sweetheart, when did you get this?'

Her lip trembled as he put his arm around her, 'This morning, there was some mistake, and now…'

'Oh Kir,' he cut her off, 'you've got to let go. The baby's gone darling, I know it hurts but you can't pretend. I'm sorry.'

Kirsten drew back, tears filling her bright blue eyes, 'But…'

'This is an old picture isn't it?' he said gently, his voice rumbling in his chest.

'No, no, it's not,' she choked, unable to control her tears.

Sandy's heart broke for her again as he pulled her close and let her sob wretchedly in the haven of his arms. 'It's okay, shh baby, it's alright, it's all going to be alright,' he murmured, wishing he believed it himself.

That was the day he insisted on a change in medication; the cocktail she was talking had no apparent positive effects leaving the woman he loved a mocking mirage of who she used to be

-----

A few more days passed and Kirsten still wasn't herself despite seeming a little better after her prescription was changed. The outcome of a bitter row and Kirsten being frogmarched to the doctors again. She was apparently managing to cope but recovery is always a tightrope. Baby steps were the answer. She made the first concerning her father on a grey morning much like the one where it all began, more than three weeks since reality unravelled.

---

'Well if it isn't my prodigal sister-in-law, reformed,' Sandy said, laughing into the receiver. 'How the hell are you Hailey?'

Kirsten looked up from her breakfast tray at the mention of her sister's name.

'…Good, that's great… No, Newport isn't the same without you! ….Flattery? Me? …Oh yes I'm keeping busy, too busy…ok maybe I do gauge it on how I often I get to surf in a week….bad business practice? Hailey Nichol I expected better from you… Your sister? She's right here, having breakfast in bed… Why? Um, well…' He noticed his wife's fixed glare and quickly covered up the near admission that not all was well. 'Just because I love her…. You not found yourself an honest man yet then? …Actually forget I asked that… Please, I'm too old for such stories… I'll hand you over to Kirsten. Take care Hail.'

'So breakfast in bed huh?' Hailey remarked. 'What is it, second honeymoon?'

'It's just Sandy, being nice,' she answered quietly.

'Oh really? Care to expand on that?'

'Um well there's black coffee, bacon, those little waffles I like so much, whipped butter, two fried eggs, fruit and OJ. He calls it the whaler.'

'Kirsten! Are you being naïve or cheeky?'

'What?'

'What's the _reason_ for breakfast in bed? Tell me about last night.'

'Last night? Uh…'

'I'm your sister, you can tell me.'

'Oh…oh! _Hailey_! Nothing like you're thinking.'

'Boring. I know you're old but come on.'

She almost hung up, not able to deal with this kind of conversation right now.

'Kiks?'

'Let's talk about you Hailey. How's Japan?'

'Full of Japanese meaning I'm kind of a freak show but otherwise it's still great.'

'So tell me about the latest collection.'

Hailey chatted enthusiastically if someone absently about her job, her friends and the guy in the bar last night, whilst her mind worked overtime trying to work out what was upsetting her sister. As much as Kirsten hated talking about her sex life she usually got a few more details out of her. And she sounded subdued, too tired to argue.

'I'm getting the impression you're really not okay,' she said suddenly.

'Mmm that's nice.'

'Kiki are you even listening to me?'

That got her attention. 'You know not to call me that.'

'I also know that you're not listening to me so something's wrong.'

Kirsten hesitated but couldn't quite find the words. 'I'm fine,' she lied once again.

'Promise?'

'I'm tired Hail, that's all. It's been…a rough couple of weeks.'

'O…kay.'

'So is everything okay with you? What did you really call for? Knowing _you_ it wasn't _just_ to brag about the 'ikemen', in other words, hotties.'

'Well…' As Kirsten had suspected her sister wasn't simply making a social call.

'I was…I was thinking about Mom.'

Kirsten swallowed; she should have known this was coming. She'd marked her mother's birthday with private tears, surprised when Hailey hadn't called.

'It's just Susie's mom came out to see her and they didn't fight like Mom and I did…'

'Hailey sweetie, you've got to let this go. She forgave you for all that.'

'But we fought right up until she died. Why did I do that?'

'Because you two were too alike that's all.'

'Yeah I guess. You're more like Dad.'

'Mmm.'

'And yet it was always me and him against you and Mom, why was that?'

'He liked you best.'

'Yeah right. All I've ever done is piss him off.'

'He…he's proud of you, sorting you life out.'

'Not as proud as he is of you.'

'I wouldn't count on it.' Kirsten muttered feeling the conversation was getting too deep. Her sister's comments about the final months with their mom were hitting a nerve. Hailey had been angry, angry at being left out of the loop so long, angry at the cancer, angry that she couldn't do anything. Things hadn't been peaceful in the Nichol household as the family struggled to come to terms with the time limit on Katherine Cohen's life. Her sister's anger had spilled over to focus on the dying woman herself and the relationship had been fraught to say the least. Even now, years later, Hailey couldn't forgive herself for not making the last months of her mother's life more peaceful.

Katherine had understood; she knew exactly how Hailey felt. In a strange way the arguments kept her going; something other than the pitying looks of the Newpsies, the utter devastation in the eyes of her eldest daughter and the absence of her husband who buried himself in his work. Kirsten hadn't understood. Her anger came later, the inability to cope with reality appeared the moment her mother was gone. And then she knew how Hailey felt, wishing she'd done something other than tried to play mediator. It wasn't as if the pair had parted without being reconciled but Hailey was still guilty and Kirsten knew that she would be to. If her father died tomorrow she wouldn't forgive herself. And so when the conversation with her sister ended she didn't return the phone to the beside table.

---

The phone rang at his desk, distracting Caleb from nothing other than his thoughts. The knowledge that he had perhaps lost his third and final daughter weighed heavily on his mind; suddenly his business empire seemed insignificant.

'Mr Nichol?' his secretary's voice suddenly filtered into his conscious. 'Mr Nichol?'

'Yes?' he barked, angry at being caught so distracted.

'Your daughter is on line one.'

'Kirsten?' he asked in hopeful surprise.

'Um…no, it's Hailey.'

'Oh…right, that's great. Put her through.'

'Mr Nichol…is uh, Kirsten okay? I heard…'

'You heard nothing.'

'I understand, just, send her my love.'

'I will do,' he answered, disconnecting the internal line and reflecting that while his new assistant wasn't Phyllis, she had a good heart.

'Hailey! It's good to hear from you.'

'Ditto but what's with the over-exuberant greeting?' she asked blissfully unaware that Kirsten was currently steeling herself to call their father and would find the line unavailable.

'Can't a father be happy to talk to his daughter who hasn't called for months?'

'You haven't called me.'

'Well…I…uh, I'm sorry Hail.'

'What _is_ going on? Since when do you apologise rather than make excuses about work?'

'I was just…'

'You and Kirsten fighting again? That's the only thing I can think of that gets you in a state.'

'So how are you?' Caleb asked, ignoring her.

'Dad. I'm not six anymore tell me what's going on. I know something is up; I've just been on the phone to Kirsten and she was similarly more interested in my affairs.'

Caleb sighed wishing he hadn't answered the phone himself. 'I guess you're gonna find out sometime so…'

'Yes I am so spit it out.'

'Your sister….your sister was pregnant.'

'Really?' Hailey's shriek caused her father to hold the phone away from his ear.

'Yes but…'

Suddenly Hailey caught up. 'Was?'

'Yeah. Couple of weeks ago, preeclampsia and a miscarriage because we…had a fight; she lost the baby,' he came clean haltingly.

'Fuck. Dad!'

'I didn't mean to, it just happened and I didn't know she was pregnant and…'

'You think I don't know that? You'd never intentionally hurt her or me. Despite how paltry your latest cheque was…kidding!'

Caleb sighed and she guessed her brother-in-law had rubbed off of her. It was too early to joke.

'So Newport is as dramatic as ever huh?'

---

It took four attempts to actually finish keying in the number and then he wasn't even there. At first she was angry. Angry that when she'd finally plucked up the courage and enough guilt to call, he was either not in or talking to someone else. Suddenly she was incredibly relieved that she didn't have to go through with this, and then immediately guilty for being glad. She'd come this far, she shouldn't back out now.

She left two empty messages before she finally managed to stay on the line long enough to speak. Kirsten steeled herself when the automated message played. How on earth she would ever face her father if she balked at his answer phone?

_Caleb Nichol is currently unavailable. Please leave a message and someone from the relevant department will get back to you._

Kirsten wondered if he would bother to call back. She remembered the 'relevant department' who had returned her calls as a child. It had always been Phyllis, never her father himself. His assistant had answered hundreds of her questions and told her the lies to go with them.

_He's in a meeting sweetie._

_Yes he misses you._

_No he doesn't like the nasty investor men._

_I'm sure he'll call the minute he gets back._

_He loved the calendar honey. It's up in office right now. _

It was eight years of calendar making before Kirsten discovered Phyllis was the one with the string and picture hooks. That year she didn't make him one and he didn't even notice.

'…Dad,' she began. 'Dad, I don't want to talk to you but…' She swallowed uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't done this. 'But I-I should have told you. I just…wanted to say I know it wasn't all your fault even if I haven't acted like it,' Kirsten said in a rush, her voice cracking. 'I'm…sorry.'

---

AN. Now I wasn't so sure about the office bit but I didn't want to leave it out after writing it! It's kinda odd but you have to remember that she's seriously distressed at this point.

---  
Angst whore? Moi? Never!

… (I didn't say the r-word!)

---


	17. Postpone

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

Chapter: 17: Postpone

---

OMG you guys! 200 REVIEWS! I am just BLOWN away. Thank you, thank you, thank you x 200 billion. Keep it up!

---

Now this is a little AU but I wrote it when I was revising 'Yerma' for my drama AS. The woman in it is desperate for a baby but her husband doesn't, he just wants her. After years of despair she finally cracks and kills him. Now I didn't go that far (lol!) but there are similar themes, let me know if anyone recognises it!

---

That weekend was Marissa's birthday. The Cohens' invitation had been pinned to the fridge for weeks but no one had mentioned it, not even Julie who had been over for coffee and a one-sided dialogue the day before. Newport's leading lady had reeled off every latest piece of gossip in the hope of tempting Kirsten out of her shell with news of a new cosmetic enhancement scandal.

'What does Marissa want for her birthday?' she asked suddenly, interrupting the update on Veronica Townsend's divorce.

'An alternate universe,' Julie replied. 'A new hip flask, a bullet? I don't know.'

'Things that bad?'

'They've been worse,' she said dryly. 'Anyway don't worry about it.'

'I don't want to come without a gift.'

'Oh well, we weren't expecting you…'

'Julie, I need to get my life back; with not being at work I feel so out of the loop. Tomorrow isn't gonna be a big do I think I can manage it.'

'O…K. Does Sandy know?'

'He's not my keeper Julie. And we'll all be coming,' she'd said firmly and then Julie had had to run to make it to the gym in time for her Cardiobarre class.

---

So they had all duly gone to the Birthday Party held at the Cooper-Nichol mansion. It was a small gathering; the Cohens, Roberts, and various components of the Cooper and Nichol clans along with other friends, but that didn't deter Sandy's complaints. He and Kirsten had begun arguing as they dressed and when the terse comments and dirty looks continued out to the car Seth hurriedly suggested they take two vehicles.

'Great,' Kirsten muttered, slumping back in the passenger seat when Sandy refused to relinquish the keys. 'Now my sons are avoiding me.'

'Actually I think they're avoiding us,' her husband pointed out and received a glare in response.

He sighed and tried to bite back the snappish response but failed. He just felt so tired, so on edge all the time he couldn't help it. 'What? We get the same reaction whether we're arguing or kissing and we know it's certainly not the latter.'

'Was that a dig?'

'No Kirsten, honey…'

'Just shut up and drive Sandy.'

He complied and the rest of the journey was silent. On arrival Kirsten immediately located the birthday girl and walked off without a backward glance at her husband. The result of this was that after the champagne toasts, beer by the pool and wine at dinner he and Jimmy snuck off, already stumbling a little, and over-did it on tequila to drown their sorrows. He was glad to have his old friend back in town, even if it was only for the weekend. Someone to offload onto without having to worry about the consequences, safe in the knowledge that it wouldn't be all over Newport by tomorrow. He'd briefly sketched the details of the past couple of months and Jimmy had shown surprise and sympathy in respective measures.

'Is there anything I can do?' he asked and Sandy shook his head wearily.

'Not unless you know some way of making Kirsten talk to me…scratch that, make Kirsten even acknowledge me.'

'She's taking it pretty hard huh?'

'She doesn't deal very well with death as we both know.'

'Is it bringing up issues about her mom?'

'The way things are, I have no idea.'

'That bad?'

'I don't know anymore Jimbo.'

'And how're you?'

'Holding up. One of us has to.'

'You look shattered.'

'I'm…' he began to lie. 'It just doesn't get any easier,' he muttered, staring at the floor. 'I naively thought it would. I thought we could get through this, together, but how can we when she won't even talk to me? I mean, we've talked but…' he tailed off. 'It's not exactly a dialogue. We say things to each other.'

'But aside from that are things okay? I mean, you two never really needed words to communicate.'

'Well there isn't any other sort of communicating going on so…no, we're not okay. Seems like every time we catch a break something else crops up, another secret is revealed…'

Jimmy bit back his questions and let the older man ramble.

'You had the right idea getting out of this place. It's like living in a fucking fish bowl; not exactly conducive to honest grieving… You know, it took her almost two weeks to cry.'

'She never did like ruining her makeup,' he joked lamely.

Sandy grimaced and took another swig of his drink. 'How the hell do you miss someone you never even met? How do you love someone you never really knew?'

Jimmy looked taken aback at being expected to answer such a philosophical question. 'Uh…I don't know.'

'I know why she's like this, I know how damn hard it is. She just doesn't believe I do.'

'She'll come round, eventually.'

'Before or after we fall apart?'

'You're not serious?'

'No… Yes… Oh I don't know.' Sandy set his glass down unsteadily beside him and rubbed his face with his hands. 'It just keeping hitting me how screwed up things are.'

Jimmy nodded sympathetically and refilled their glasses.

---

After an extensive search Kirsten found her husband and her ex-boyfriend slumped on two pool chairs round the far side of the house.

'Boys,' she thought, eyes taking in the empty bottles and assorted glasses. She would have smiled if she wasn't so damn jealous, if she knew it was only an innocent drinking session, like the night they drunkenly decided to buy the Lighthouse, but it wasn't. She knew why they'd done it and she wished she had the luxury of losing herself, losing this whole damn mess in a bottle of pure, distilled escapism. But she couldn't; she didn't fancy her chances in mixing excessive amounts of alcohol and anti-depressants, in fact the doctor had warned her about it several times, protocol in a town of alcoholics. She wondered why she had bothered with the pills; alcohol was usually so much more appealing but at least she had medical backing for the prescription to use against Sandy's arguments, vodka didn't have that. She'd seen him watching her when she'd had half a glass of white the other night. It was dinner, she wanted to relax and yet he acted as though she was about to go on a bender. She had always liked a drink, hell, who in Newport didn't? But she also knew, in the back of her mind, that she sometimes liked it too much, sometimes it wasn't just a want; there was a need. She couldn't deny that sometimes, maybe even often, she did come home and reach straight for the corkscrew. But it was to relax after the stress of work, to forget about the cracks in her marriage, suppress certain feelings, that was all. She had been turning to it in increasingly in the past year and with her mother's history she knew that wasn't a good place to be but she couldn't help it. The one thing that was stopping her now was fear; fear that it might not be enough. What if she couldn't drink away this pain? This wasn't just about her, or Sandy. It wasn't as simple as something at work, it was more complicated than the things, the people, the feelings that threatened their marriage. This went deeper, deeper into her, her marriage, her family. Drinking might make her feel better but it would only make everything worse.

---

'Kirssssten muffin,' Sandy exclaimed drunkenly as she approached and she smiled a little even as she rolled her eyes.

'Private joke,' she told Jimmy whose eyebrows were drawn together in confusion, unsure as to whether it was the alcohol numbing his brain that was making him hear strange things. He stumbled to his feet, 'K-kirsten, I know you're probably sick of p-people s-saying this but…I'm sorry.'

She swallowed but didn't miss a beat. 'Thanks Jimmy.' It was classic Kirsten; swallow, smile, lie. Hide weakness from everyone, even her oldest friend. He stepped forward, obviously concentrating hard on the movement, and hugged her.

'Jimmy-fucking-Cooper,' Sandy interrupted teasingly, voice slurring a little, 'get your hands-s-off my wife.'

The other man laughed and released Kirsten. 'S-she's all yours-s-Sandy, if of course you're man enough to stand up and take her home.'

'Ha,' was the response. 'As Kirsssten knows-s, I'm allllll man.'

'Please,' she chastised. 'For those of who aren't screaming drunk this is decidedly awkward. Come on Sandy, let's go.'

'Go? Where?' he asked in surprise.

'Home. The kids have gone out to celebrate without the 'older generation' and I couldn't take any more Newpsie gossip.' She held out her hand, not noticing the mischievous smile edging across his face, brightening the hazy eyes. He tugged hard on her arm and, taken by surprise, Kirsten lost her balance and landed heavily beside him.

'That's not funny Sandy,' she said crossly as both he and Jimmy dissolved into very unmanly giggles.

'I love you,' he said, pouting and employing puppy-dog eyes as one hand snaked round her back.

She raised her eyebrows and reached for the stray arm. 'I love you too but you still have to get up.'

Sandy groaned and let himself be hauled to his feet. Once upright he swayed dangerously and she realised this was never going to work. She was far too small and slight to support his weight all the way to the drive.

'Jimmy,' she asked, 'little help here?'

'S-sure…' was the uncertain response as he got gingerly to his feet again and waited for the world to stop spinning.'

'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,' she commented as Jimmy slumped against the other side of her husband, no more holding him up than being held up himself. 'What the hell have you been drinking?'

'I have nooo idea,' he declared, guffawing loudly. Kirsten rolled her eyes. 'If I have to have my car valeted I'm sending you the bill.'

'I am not _that_ drunk,' Sandy cut in, not impressed with the aspersions being cast on the strength of his stomach.

'Really. Well prove it. Walk to the car.'

'Uh…' Sandy took two steps and faltered. 'I never said I was-ss-n't _drunk_,' he clarified as he tripped over his own feet and only just managed to regain his balance. 'I'm just a leeetle…bit…tipsy.'

'Hmm, well I'm totally convinced,' she answered sarcastically, sighing and manhandling her husband's arms around her and Jimmy's shoulders, not an easy task seeing as they were both doubled over laughing again.

The journey to the car took at least six times longer than it should have done and she knew her shoulder was going to ache like hell in the morning. Jimmy seemed to sober up a little as they stumbled along in the shadows. Sandy however, didn't; tottering along unhelpfully, exclaiming loudly when he stubbed his toe and bursting into snatches of song. He was surprisingly in tune for someone so inebriated and Kirsten remembered nights of drunken karaoke in college, Sandy serenading her all the way home until they were in private and she could shut him up.

'Mmm, you smell goo-oo-ood,' Sandy declared with his eyes closed, head lolling on a certain shoulder, a shoulder that didn't belong to Kirsten.

'Uh, I'm over here,' she said and his head shot up so fast she thought he might get whiplash, eyes panicked, face horror-struck.

Jimmy snorted. 'You are totally smashed man.'

'At least I'm not the one wearing perfume.'

'Shut up. I am not!'

'Hey!' Kirsten cut in before the two could start brawling. 'We're here.' She shifted position to find her keys and pull the door open. Finally Sandy was sat, after a fashion, in the passenger seat. Kirsten leant over him to fasten his seatbelt and he nuzzled her neck, hands sliding round her waist and holding her there. 'You s-smell so good,' he mumbled.

'Thanks honey but it would mean so much more if a) you were sober and b) you hadn't just said it to Jimmy.'

'I didn't,' he insisted, sniggering as Kirsten extricated herself, shut the door, thanked Jimmy and climbed into the driving seat. He fumbled with the buttons on the central panel as she started the engine, managing to wind down every window but his own in quick succession.

'Jimmaaaaaaay!' Sandy hollered out the window once he'd finally found the correct switch. 'Au revoir my man, I mean, mon monsieur!'

Kirsten shook her head as she pressed the gas pedal. Why did Sandy always start talking French when he was drunk?

---

She thought he would fall asleep on the ride home but he didn't.

Kirsten managed to half-drag him from the car to the house and thought all she had to deal with now was getting him into bed and watching jealously as he slept in a deep stupor, but she didn't.

Stood outside as she fished for the house keys in her purse, he revived slightly. Before she knew he had moved from where he was stood leaning drunkenly against one of the porch pillars, she felt him close behind her. The proximity, his chest pressed flush against her back, made her tremble slightly. His hands slid down her shoulders, down her arms to rest at her hips. Kirsten fumbled with the key. 'Sandy,' she said, her voice strangled.

'Yes-ss honey?' The whisper in her ear was seductive and she almost flinched. This wasn't right, not right now, not like this. Not tonight.

He leant over her shoulder, nuzzling her neck again, lips pressing small, persistent kisses from her ear along the curve of her jaw. Finally she somehow managed to get the door open and could step away from him, try to escape the mass of confused feelings and fear his lustful kisses and wandering hands were piquing within her.

'Kirsten?' he queried, coming inside and letting the door slam behind him.

'What?' was the impatient answer as she turned to face him. 'What do you want?'

'I want you, you look so beautiful tonight,' he slurred slightly, reaching out towards her, grasping her hand. 'Come here.'

Kirsten fought the rising panic as he moved to kiss her; for some reason she couldn't do this.

'Sandy,' she protested, turning away so his lips grazed across her cheek.

'I want you,' he whispered, releasing her hand, his own moving to the small of her back, pressing her towards him before continuing lower to caress her ass.

'But…but, what about…'

Sandy shook his head, 'Just you, just us,'

'But…' her voiced cracked and she couldn't continue, looking away, eyes blurring over.

'No, it wasn't meant to happen,' he soothed. 'It's better this way,'

The hand he had tangled in her hair twisted her head back towards him a little roughly, 'I love you,' he muttered, kissing her again. She could taste the liquor on his breath.

'Sandy,' she sobbed, struggling against him, 'you're drunk, stop it.'

He mumbled incoherently and continued to trail kisses down her neck,'

'_Please_, stop it Sandy, I can't…not right now.'

'Kir-r-ssssten, what's wrong?' he asked, finally hearing the uneven edge to her voice, the lust still evident in his alcohol-hazy eyes.

She freed herself from Sandy's grasp, breathing heavily, mascara smudged at the edge of her eyes by the tears that were moments away from falling. 'If you have to ask you can sleep on the couch.'

Confusion fluttered across his face as she stalked away but he was too tired to try and work it out and not in a fit state to follow her.

-----

The next morning he woke with a pounding headache, cricked back and the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Forcing his brain to work through the fog that was last night, he came to a few conclusions.

Hangover.

Couch.

Fight with Kirsten.

'Oh God,' he groaned, debating the advantages of getting up. On the one hand the kitchen had bagels and coffee, on the other Kirsten was probably there and he would have to face up to whatever he had done last night. However the appeal of the first two items was too great, the run-in with his wife was inevitable; may as well have some sustenance first.

She looked up from the paper as he stumbled in, her icy gaze taking in his dishevelled appearance and guilty face.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, skirting round the kitchen island.

'Do you even remember what you did?'

He paused by the coffee pot, 'Um…no, but I'm sorry?'

'Not good enough. How's the head?'

'Pretty damn awful, how much did I drink last night?'

'Enough to make you pushy, deaf and forgetful,'

There was silence in the kitchen as Sandy began to remember the previous night. Jimmy. Tequila. Shit.

He looked aghast at the realisation, 'Oh Kirsten, I…didn't mean, I…'

'I don't want to hear it Sandy, last night was the first time you've ever been like that; the only time I've ever felt afraid, you're usually such a sweet drunk.'

Sandy dropped his head into his hands.

Kirsten continued, her voice shaking slightly, 'I know I haven't been exactly…well, you know, recently and I'm sorry, but we'll get there. You've been so supportive, and then last night… It can't be like this Sandy.'

He nodded mutely, heaving a deep sigh. 'It won't,' he said, his voice husky before he cleared his throat. 'It won't happen again, I promise, I promise. Please Kirsten; I'm sorry, so sorry.'

She looked up as she felt his hand tentatively close around her own. The fathomless depths of his eyes were deep, dark and deadly serious, his scruffy hair and five o'clock shadow a stark contrast to the sombre lines etched on his face.

'I love you,' she murmured resting her head against his arm and wishing she hadn't reacted so harshly the previous night. The last thing they needed right now was this aching fracture between them to grow any wider yet she'd approached it with a crowbar. 'I need you, but not if…'

'It won't…I love you, love you so much. I just…I want to comfort you, comfort myself and I don't know what else to do anymore.'

'I know what you mean and I'm sorry I put you in that position, I am I just…' Unable to find words to explain herself, Kirsten tugged gently at his sleeve to bring him down to her level and kissed him, knowing he wouldn't dare initiate it after their conversation.

'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

'Now go get showered, you look like hell.'

Sandy hesitated.

'Now!'

'But there are bagels and coffee here,'

'Afterwards,'

'Aw, but Kirsten.'

'No buts, go shower and I may come join you…'

'Really?' Sandy was taken aback.

'I'm not promising anything, it's not that I don't want to, I just…don't know if I can.'

'Okay honey,' he answered dropping a kiss on the top of her head, 'I'll postpone the bagels just in case.'

---

In the event she didn't come join him and Sandy spent a good ten minutes wondering how on earth he could make this up to her. He really sucked at being a good husband these days. He hated to think that his wife might feel like he wanted her for something other than just being herself. But he also hated her refusing any sort of comfort he was offering, and in all honesty, he just wanted a little in return.

-----

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Tell me about your day or shamelessly plug your own fic by leaving a review lol!

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	18. How Long?

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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This chapter is for Ally who reviews SO regularly but doesn't leave her email so I can't write a gushing thank you! I think I know who you are but it would be tres embarrassing if I got it wrong and left a long message to someone else lol!

Sorry it's late on Wed, I kept procrastinating. But the chapters do seem to be lengthening and 8/9/10 pages is becoming the norm. Lucky for you!

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Chapter: 18 How Long

Sandy's cell rang, the screen reading 'Cay-Cay'. He pushed back the thoughts of the last time his father-in-law had called him and answered.

'What the hell is my daughter doing in her office?'

'What?' the words took a moment to register. Kirsten was at home. Perhaps Caleb had finally gone off his rocker.

'Kirsten. In her office. Right now.' Sandy knew exactly where his wife's occasional abruptness came from.

'She's there?'

'Yes Sanford. Have you been smoking something? You're really not on the ball.'

'I'm confused. Kirsten's at work? As in at the Newport Group?'

'Yes. Why, I don't know, hence the reason I'm calling you.'

'Oh. Well…'

'She shouldn't be here.'

'Do you think I don't know that?'

'I thought you were looking after her.'

'I can't tie to her the house Caleb. Look, she's only doing this to annoy me…I upset her over the weekend. Do _not_ comment.'

'Not a word.'

'I'll be right there. Could you…break the ice?'

'You're not the only one she's mad with you know.'

'I know, but I'm hoping I'm the lesser of two evils.'

Caleb snorted and hung up. He knocked on his daughter's open door and was ignored.

'Kirsten?' he ventured. 'Kirsten?'

'Hmm,' she answered without looking up.

'Uh, I didn't expect to see you today.'

'Mmm well, I was going crazy at home.'

'Kirsten…'

'I'm busy right now, can this wait?'

'No. Kirsten, please, just look at me.'

'Trying to catch up…lots of files,' she muttered, shuffling papers on her desk. She was happy to find that she seemed to have copies of all the documents dating back to…a certain date, even if someone else had actually been doing her job.

'I thought we were…talking again.'

'No.'

'But the phone call…' he mumbled, feeling childish.

Kirsten glanced up guiltily at that and then hurriedly looked down again. 'I felt bad,' she admitted. 'It doesn't mean I'm ready to forgive you yet. It doesn't mean we can have the relationship we did.'

'Okay so…what does that mean?'

'Let's just talk business.'

'But…'

'Business, Mr Nichol, or nothing.'

He swallowed, hard. Being called Mr Nichol by his daughter was awkward. It reminded him of the way he'd treated her when she first started working at The Newport Group. Both stubbornly proud, Kirsten had tried so hard to prove herself, desperate to not just be 'the boss' daughter' and he had gone to the extreme in demanding professionalism so he wouldn't appear to be favouring her. Only Sandy knew how many times she had come home in tears because Caleb had ignored her suggestions in a meeting or given her a public rebuke for slipping and calling him dad. It had taken him several years to loosen up, to appreciate Kirsten's work, not that he ever told her, and to treat her like a daughter and valued advisor, not just an expendable employee.

---

Sandy appeared a couple of minutes later and was not impressed to find Kirsten and her father talking, if somewhat awkwardly, about work.

'Give you an inch and you'll always take a mile,' Sandy observed of his father-in-law who seemed perfectly content to interact with his daughter any way he could. 'You were supposed to be registering your concern, not encouraging this ridiculous state of affairs.'

'Don't talk about me like I'm not here,' his wife cut in. 'The only ridiculous thing at the moment is the fact that two grown men can't accept the fact I'm not sat at home wrapped in cotton wool.'

'Your father doesn't seem so worried.'

'I am, I just…I'm gonna go,' Caleb stuttered. 'Looks like you've got this covered Sanford. Take care Kirsten, and…maybe he's right you know.'

'Kirsten, what the hell are you doing here?' her husband questioned, approaching her round the side of the desk. She resolutely refused to swivel her chair to face him.

'Don't Sandy, I need this.'

'You need to look after yourself.'

'I do have work to do Sandy. Can't we argue at home, tonight?'

'I don't _want_ to argue but yes we'll do it at home. Right now.'

'Sandy! No!' she said harshly, jerking away from the hand on her arm.

'I know why you're doing this?'

'Why's that?'

'You're punishing me…for what happened on Saturday.'

'What? Sandy. Not everything is about you or our sex life.'

'I-I just…'

'You just what? Stop assuming things. This is what I have to do Sandy, to get back on track, to feel in control.'

'Last week you ran into my office insisting it had all been a mistake.'

'I was…upset, the drugs were confusing me.'

'You really believed it or wanted to. Hell, I wanted to. But do you know how frightening that was? To have you hallucinating like that, or whatever it was.'

'I'm sorry.'

'That's irrelevant. You don't need to apologise, just please try and understand how I'm feeling.'

She swallowed, knowing too well what he felt. His face that day was indescribable. His eyes were damp when she finally stopped clinging onto his shirt and looked up at him, the lies in his words etched across his face; he was no longer sure they would be alright. That night he was the one awake, padding around outside, circumnavigating the pool endlessly. The next time she woke he was sat hunched over the patio table, shoulders heaving, _that_ scan picture in front of him, crumpled, tearstained. She had wanted to go out there but she couldn't make any promises either.

'Sandy, I appreciate your concern but…'

'You're not yourself yet Kirsten, give it some more time.'

'And I can't be myself if I'm trapped at home with only the thoughts in my head for company.'

'But…'

'I'm sorry, I really am honey but I have to. I'm gonna work with or without your blessing.'

And that had been that.

---

Kirsten insisted on working. Sandy hated it but she refused to let that stop her and he didn't know what else to do. She wouldn't listen to reason. He couldn't keep her safe like he wanted. He'd caved, at least for now.

It had been a mistake. That much soon became obvious. She was putting on the act, appearing as 'Kirsten Cohen' for the boys, for work, even for the damn Newpsies but she still wasn't Kirsten. Not the Kirsten Sandy knew and loved. It impressed him how well she fooled everyone else, sometimes even making him doubt himself, but he knew something wasn't right. She looked exhausted, face pale beneath the makeup, mascara accentuating the wide, dark pupils of her tired eyes, lips, their colour false, constantly pulled into the fakest of fake Newpsie smiles. Alone, when she didn't know he was watching, she'd let her happy mask slip, he'd hear her sobs amidst the noise of the shower and at night she'd lie like a rag doll in his arms, barely returning his goodnight kisses.

By the third day she was flagging and she knew it but she couldn't give in. However hard it was to drag herself out of bed, however much she wanted to close her eyes and hide from the world when the alarm went off; Sandy having refused to wake her, she wasn't about to give her husband the satisfaction of being right. Kirsten knew it was stupid and childish but she wanted things to go back to normal so damn much she couldn't help but push it. It didn't get any easier though. She was struggling to get back on track in the office and the harder she tried the more her health and everything at home seemed to suffer. Her sons were quiet around her, timid, as though she might break. Her husband, open in his refusal to accept the stand she was taking, was still quietly supportive in everything else; gentle kisses and a cup off coffee when she wobbled into the kitchen on the high heels she seemed to have forgotten how to walk in, warm arms at enveloping her at night, soothing words in her ear; the only thing that could get her to sleep, the only sound that could calm her after the nightmares. The fact that she knew she was hurting him, and yet he was still there, was tearing her apart.

She felt as bad as she looked before MaxFactor and Maybeline worked their magic, not that she would ever admit it. Sandy didn't need to tell her she looked tired, she could feel it all over her body, from the backs of her eyes to the depths of her bones and it made her feel dizzy on a morning and shaky at night. Plus there was something else, a nagging somewhere in her head, a niggling feeling that there was something she had forgotten, something she didn't know, couldn't figure out. Perhaps she was going crazy. Thank god it was almost the weekend. Yesterday she had almost cracked. The figures on the document in front of her were indistinct with her tiredness anyway and when she found them blurry with tears she had been on the point of going home. And she would have done, if the room hadn't been spinning so much that she wasn't sure she could make it to the door.

---

It was mid-afternoon on Friday. He'd been working like a dog all day long hoping that he could leave early, swing by the Newport Group and force Kirsten to quit acting like she was okay and come home with him. They could order in Thai and force the kids to watch a movie or something, anything, to create a semblance of normal family life. And yet now he'd reached a point where he didn't feel guilty about ditching his desk for the weekend, he couldn't pluck up the courage to actually set the plan in motion. Things were more than a little frosty between him and Kirsten, who kept staying late at the office, no doubt to avoid their sorry excuse for a marriage and forcing the boys to sit in that unsettled atmosphere for the evening was an idea that didn't appeal. He was debating whether to just face Kirsten or maybe go to the beach until it was time to collect the boys from school and leave her to herself, when his cell phone rang from the depths of his pocket. He fumbled for it hoping whoever it was wouldn't hang up. This time the display read 'Kirsten - Office'. He'd known this was a bad idea. It was only a matter of time before her grief caught up with her.

'Honey?'

'Sandy?' Her voice was very small, unnaturally high-pitched and he knew immediately that she was on the verge of tears.

'Kirsten darling, what's wrong?'

No answer, just shaky breathing on the other end of the line.

'I just let her go,' she choked out. 'She was my child and I let them take her. I didn't ask any questions, want to see her…anything.'

She was going to think of all this sometime, Sandy had know that, ask questions, want answers, but why now? Things had been going well, sort of.  
'How about I come pick you up and we go someplace to talk?' he offered, stalling so he'd have time to work out how to tell her everything.

'I abandoned her in that hospital Sandy. God knows what happened to her.'

'Calm down ok? I'll be right there.'

'No. We both have work to do and…'

'And you're really getting a lot done in that state.'

'I-I, I know it's stupid but…I worry, that…that she'd be c-cold. We didn't even have a blanket…'

Sandy didn't reply at first, he let the phone slide down his cheek, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a common fear; the baby being cold even though it was dead.

'We can't talk about this over the phone.'

'I need to know Sandy, please. What happened?'

He couldn't decide which was worse. Telling her now and not being there to comfort her, or making her wait and being able to see the hurt flash across her eyes.

'Kirsten sweetie,' he stopped, struggling to find words, 'it wouldn't be…like that, the baby, she wouldn't, didn't…_feel_ cold.'

'B-but.'

'She wasn't born as such. She wasn't a 'baby.'

He could almost hear the tears creeping down his wife's cheeks as he explained what had happened.

It wasn't what she wanted to hear.

She didn't want to know that the baby had begun to miscarry even before the preeclampsia had been diagnosed, that she had saved Kirsten's life.

Her child had died for her. If it had to happen at all, it was meant to be the other way around.

Sandy was beginning to become unnerved by her silence. No response, no protest, no sobs.

'I'm coming over…'

Eventually a whisper, 'No…'

'Don't worry; I'll stay on the line.'

'No,' she repeated, stronger this time, 'you're not to drive while on the phone. I'm fine, honest.

'I'll see you in ten.' Sandy told her, hanging up.

At that point Kirsten put her head down on top of the pile of blueprints in front of her and cried again, salty tears smudging the ink.

---

'You really didn't need to come.'  
Her husband sat on her desk and looked her straight in the eye. 'I did. Now, are we gonna talk more about this? You're upset, I'm upset. We're going through the same thing. Okay I know it's not the _same_ for me but I understand.'

'Don't pretend you know how I'm feeling because you don't,' she spat.

'I'm trying to Kirsten,' he shot back, forcing himself to stay calm this time. It was just the grief talking. 'I can imagine that if feels the way I feel but worse. We were having this baby together, we lost her together.'

'I lost her.'

'Honey, it wasn't you fault. You know that. I'm just saying we need to face this together or we'll fall apart. And the first step is talking.'

Kirsten shook her head, 'No, I can't. Not right now I really need to…process the information, just, think.'

'Ooh you know no good comes of thinking.'

She didn't smile, dropping her head to try and hide her tears.

'Ok, let's go,' he declared, jumping up.

'Go where? Sandy.'

'Home. You, are going to bed.'

'I can't. Look, I've got mascara all over these plans.'

'Doesn't matter.'

'But I have things to do.'

'Nothing that can't wait,' he insisted, holding out her jacket. Still protesting, she reluctantly slid her arms into it.  
---

Back home, they sat side by side on the bed for a while, Kirsten leaning wearily against her husband, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. He felt her stifle a yawn and leant down to tug off her shoes before manoeuvring her so she was lying lengthways on the bed. She caught his tie as he bent over, 'Are you gonna stay?' she mumbled. Sandy nodded and she let the material slide though her fingers, listening as he closed the blinds, kicked off his shoes and shed his jacket and tie. A minute later the bed shifted as he crawled towards her, one arm fitting snugly round her waist.

She needed this, needed him.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd be alright.

-----

When Kirsten woke up later Sandy was no longer beside her making her feel a little bit mutinous until she heard the sounds of clattering in the kitchen along with whispers and muffled laughter. Her boys. A glance at the clock told her that it was already evening and they were probably preparing dinner. Once again she didn't feel like eating but knew she'd have to try, if only to make them happy.

Happy.

What a stupid word.

Kirsten knew she had infinite reasons to be happy; the three main ones were in the kitchen right now, and part of her felt guilty for not being so. She loved them, no one could deny that, but surely loving her daughter as well, didn't make her love them any less? It just made her hurt more. She'd cried a summer's worth of tears over Seth and Ryan, she wondered how long the current tears would last. She had clutched the sheets off Ryan's bed following his departure, stood breathing in the scent of the clothes hung in Seth's closet after his disappearance and the memories made her remember something else.

---

They were the only things she'd bought. She'd been sensible; she knew the chances of miscarriage, knew how her age and inability to take breaks from work made it even more risky as much as tried to ignore them. But at thirteen weeks, the end of the first-semester, she'd given in and marked the little milestone with a tiny pair of socks.

Kirsten loved baby clothes and shoes, but socks were definitely her favourite. It was silly but she adored the miniature garments; the thought of 'teensy weensy ickle feets and toeses'!

She opened her bedside drawer and took out the pair, smiling sadly as she thought of the tiny feet that should have worn them. She slipped one onto each thumb and sat rubbing her fingers against the soft material.

'Fool,' she thought to herself, 'look at you; sat stroking baby socks like some demented old woman. They're never going to be worn, you should throw them away.' The thought made the ever threatening tears run down her face and she hurriedly brushed them away, dampening the little sock as she did so. They were her only link to her little girl.

Kirsten kept the socks.

-----

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You don't need me to say it do you?

But, if you don't I will say it TWICE next time.

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	19. Deadlines

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Aw my darlings I am sooo sorry. I feel really bad. Honestly. I hate not updating on time for you. You were fabulous reading and reviewing the last chapter so it wasn't nice to not reward you. I will try to do several updates in quick succession over the next week or so. I really didn't expect real life to catch up with me like that!

Thanks for hanging on.

LOL how damn ironic is the title?

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Chapter 19: Deadlines 

Sandy leant against the kitchen island and glanced at the book he'd just confiscated from his sons. Both boys were doing an English assignment on 'Frankenstein' and both had insisted they needed the use of this one particular book; a literary critic's biography of Mary Shelley's life. They'd been sharing the volume up until tonight, stealing it from each other's rooms and both sticking in assorted post-its and markers where there were quotes or references they wanted for their essays. Tonight however, with the deadline looming there'd been an argument as to who should have the book, who had borrowed it from the library in the first place and which of them needed it most. Seth and Ryan rarely fought; they bickered over the play-station occasionally, sure, but they didn't argue like they had been tonight. Then again things weren't normal at the moment. There was a strained atmosphere in the house, Kirsten was back to being distant, alien, nothing like herself and it was affecting everyone. Banned from work by her husband and father, she was refusing to speak to either of them. She had looked from one son to the other, sighed and walked out, unable to cope with any sort of upset at the moment and hating herself for it. Just because she'd failed as a mother for her daughter didn't mean she should give up on her sons.

---

Saturday morning they had begun arguing before they knew the coast was clear, meaning their sons and respective female cohorts saw the Cohen marriage at an all time low. She wasn't sure how it had happened; yesterday she'd felt close to him again, like their love could get them through this, together. Too bad it only lasted for that dark period yesterday, lingering the previous night as they slept curled up together for the first time in a long time. Somehow the daylight had made things difficult again.

It had been a monumentally stupid idea to allow the row to continue out of their room and down the hallway but Sandy shouldn't have brought up the latest 'no work' policy. Okay, so he was right; she'd thrown herself back into work too fast; to try and numb the pain and it had backfired. However he needn't make her feel so guilty. What else was there to do but walk out? But Sandy, being Sandy, had to follow her; he nearly always did. Usually it was one of the things she loved about him; she could walk away and yet when she turned round he'd be there. This time however she was turning round to yell at him.

'Why can't you just drop it?'

'Why can't _you_ understand I'm only trying to protect you?' he asked, following her down the steps.

'You can't Sandy,' she said, angry voice wavering. 'I already got hurt and you couldn't do a damn thing about it.'

'I've tried.'

'This isn't trying! This is keeping me from the one thing that might keep me sane.'

'Sane? Are you out of your mind?'

'I'm getting that way between you, my father and the inside of my head,' she spat over her shoulder as she continued to walk away.

'And working is gonna help? All it will do is tire and stress you out.'

'I can't just hide from my life.'

'I'm not asking you to,' he shot back. They were nearing the family room, both oblivious to the four teenagers desperately wondering if they had time to make it out of the patio doors and pretend to be blissfully unaware of the tension between what was supposed to be Newport's most bombproof couple.

'Then what _are_ you asking?'

'That you take some more time.'

'Don't talk in riddles; just give me a time span.'

'For however long it takes for you to start acting like a person not a zombie.'

She spun round to fully face him at that, eyes blazing, mouth agape. 'How can you say that?' she whispered, 'How can you stand there and say that? Like it's _funny_.'

'Kirsten I…'

Sandy swallowed hard as the eyes in front of him began to swim, the shaking of her head forcing tears down her cheeks as she backed away. He didn't mean it to come out like that. Of course he didn't find it _funny_. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed.

Five sets of eyes watched as she stumbled backwards, her own still fixed on her husband in disbelief. A rug shifted beneath her feet and she felt herself falling, twisting round to try and break her fall and catching sight of the impromptu audience. Kirsten gasped, partly out of realisation; hating what her sons had just witnessed, and partly at the strong arms that caught her as she fell. Sandy scooping her up against his chest even as they both stared, horror-struck, at the teenagers.

Seth was obviously mid-hand gesture, plotting their escape, Marissa and Summer were pink-tinged with embarrassment; one focusing on her fingernails, the other the ends of her hair. Ryan looked pale, nervous almost; eyes flicking towards the door. Guilt immediately replaced their mortification; he'd had enough parental arguments in his lifetime without them subjecting him to more.

'We were…uh…gonna go to pier,' Ryan choked out as his foster parents unfroze and Kirsten drew away from her husband.

There was a murmur of agreement as the others leapt to their feet.

'Kids,' Sandy began uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. 'Uh…we're sorry…I'm sorry. You weren't meant to hear all that…it's not important, don't worry about it alright.'

'I don't think it's us you should be apologising to.'

He sighed. 'Kirsten…I…'

'Don't,' she cut him off. 'You've said enough.' She turned to the boys who were following their girlfriends out the front door. 'I-I'm…I'm sorry,' she managed before having to clasp a hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs rising in her throat, tears running down her cheeks and over her fingers as she fled from the room.

---

And here she was that evening, once again not facing her sons who probably really needed some reassurance about her mental state right about now. So Sandy had intervened, taken the book, sent the boys to their respective rooms and told them to get on with other parts of the assignment until they'd calmed down. He flipped through the pages idly, his mind heavy with thoughts, none of them particularly pleasant; the boys' strange hostility towards one another, Kirsten's silence and the baby girl whose absence was somehow slowly cracking his family. One particular page caught his eye; as a rule Ryan's neat post-its and Seth's random scraps of paper were slotted into different places. They might be writing the same essay but their approaches were very different, just like the two boys themselves. But this particular page had both, although neither were written on; no notes and references, no shorthand scribbles, just two empty markers. Sandy scanned the page and immediately understood. The paragraph related a particular point in Shelley's life after the death of one of her children and included a poem written by her husband, the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley as he lamented the change in her.

_My dearest Mary, wherefore art thou gone,_

_And left me in this dreary world alone?  
Thy form is here indeed – a lovely one – _

_But thou art fled, gone down the dreary road,_

_That leads to Sorrow's most obscure abode;_

_Thou sittest on the hearth of pale despair,_

_Where_

_For thy own sake I cannot follow thee_

_Do thou return for mine. _

Seth and Ryan hadn't noted this for their work but for themselves. Just like Sandy recognised the emotions in it, they had too. They knew Kirsten was slipping away from them. He wondered if they felt as guilty as he did for not falling with her, from refusing to despair although he felt that way, knowing he couldn't if they were to survive this. They all needed her to come back; the question was how were they going to do it?

Sandy wasn't sure but what he did know was that they had to stop avoiding the issue. 'Seth,' he hollered up the stairs, 'kitchen now!' and then felt bad. He sighed and trudged upstairs. Ryan's room was first on the hallway and he was sat on his bed, surrounded by books but his notepad was blank.

'Ryan?' Sandy ventured, startling the boy out of his trance.

'Sandy?'

'Sorry to interrupt. I want to talk to you and Seth about something.'

'Ok…I'll be right there.'

His other son's room was empty; Seth was in the kitchen by this time, sat at the island looking mutinous. 'What's going on?' he asked when his dad appeared downstairs again. 'I gave you the damn book and apologised to Ryan, what's with the angry summons?'

'Sorry son, I didn't mean it to come out like that.'

'Okay. I guess we're all a bit short-tempered at the moment.'

'Yeah, that's what I wanted to talk about…and here's Ryan. Sit down son.'

Ryan cast a nervous glance at Seth who shrugged, and slumped on a kitchen stool. 'Dad's not happy with the current climate of casa-Cohen.'

'In a nut-shell Seth's right but there's also something I wanted to show you.' Sandy placed the open book in front of the boys, jabbing a finger at the poem.

'Does this seem familiar to you? Shelley was writing almost two hundred years ago and yet what he's saying is still relevant.'

'OK Dad,' Seth cut in, 'you sound so much like Mr Osborne it's scaring me.'

Ryan didn't look up but spoke quietly, 'Seth, I know you've read it, I have too and I guess we're all thinking the same thing. That poem, it's Mary but it's also Kirsten.'

Their father nodded, 'That's what I'm trying to say.'

'I didn't want to admit it,' Seth mumbled. 'I don't want that to be mom.'

'Well it is Seth so you're going to have to be adult about this. It's a common thing you know, there are people who can help…'

'So you're gonna send her to a shrink

'I'm going to do whatever I can to help her Seth,' his dad shot back.

'But why can't we…'

'Because she won't listen, she can't just get over this.'

'But I thought you and her talked.'

'We did, in a fashion, but it was more about the past and what happened medically. It didn't deal with any of the issues this family is dealing with right now or how any of us feel, particularly her. That's why we need to convince her to see someone, to talk.'

'Ryan,' Seth said desperately but didn't get the response he was looking for.

'If it helps her get better it's the right thing to do. I wish…I wish Theresa had talked to me after…you know. We couldn't afford therapy but…if she'd just talked to me…instead of running off to Atlanta.'

Sandy gently kneaded Ryan's shoulder, 'Perhaps you should take some of your own advice sometimes, talk to us.'

His foster son gave a sad smile. 'This isn't about me, it's about Kirsten.'

'You always try to make things not about you,' Sandy said and Ryan knew he was thinking about that first meeting in juvie. 'Whereas Seth…'

Seth frowned, his voice bitter, 'I know, I know, I'm a self-centred, self-involved, egotistical ass.'

'Don't say ass,' the two other men said in unison and they all laughed, dissipating some of the tension in the room.

'She's trained us well,' Sandy observed, reaching for Seth and pulling him towards him. 'You Seth, are not an ass but none of us are perfect.'

'Thanks Dad. We're not, so it means we need her back,' Seth concluded. 'Perhaps you're both right, I just don't want her to think we've given up on her by wanting her see someone else.'

'Unless we can get her to open up to us we don't have a choice. We can't live like this. I can't stand to see her like this. I hate her being upset…' The boys watched, almost nervously, as their father broke off and took deep breath to steady his voice. 'However, we have the hurdle of getting her to agree there is a problem first,' his father said ruefully. 'You know how your mother feels about therapists.'

It was meant to be a rhetorical question but the boys looked blank. 'She hates them,' he expanded, 'guess it comes with being a Nichol. That family see psychologists as the devil's advocate, although why Caleb should find that unattractive is beyond me, and think it's dangerous to trust them. Kirsten's mom refused to ever admit she had an alcohol problem, Hailey snubbed all sorts of treatment when she went through her wild phase and can you really see Caleb on a couch? I guess it's almost inborn that she feels it's a sign of weakness.'

Seth looked grave for a moment before quipping light-heartedly; 'So that's why she ignores my pleas to see one in regard to my deep psychological scarring caused by the obsessive and obscene sex drive of my parents?'

---

Sunday morning Sandy forwent surfing only to wake up to an empty bed. It wasn't the nicest of feelings and he couldn't help but think Kirsten had a point. He crawled out of the bed that was rapidly becoming chilly and into the shower. It was wiped down but the smell of Kirsten's shampoo lingered meaning she couldn't have been up that long. He was surprised he'd slept so late; he must have been more tired than he thought. She was stood at the sink when he came into the kitchen, staring out across the ocean with faraway eyes. She didn't turn round. There was coffee in the pot and Sandy joined her at the window, a matching cup in his hand.

'Good morning,' he offered softly, his free hand hovering indecisively beside him before settling on hers. Kirsten flinched, surprised.

'Is it?'

'Well…' he faltered, wishing he could just pull her towards him the way he used to. Grab her round the waist and feel her pressing against him, curl his arm over her shoulder or loop them around her neck, cup her face with his hands and kiss her. He wondered why he didn't just do it anyway but he was afraid of the sting of rejection that was so damn familiar these days but didn't seem to hurt any less. 'The sun's shining.'

'It's Southern California, it's always shining,' was his wife's bitter retort. Well, at least she was talking to him. After a fashion.

'O...K… I thought you liked the sunshine?'

'Not when I feel like rain.'

'You want it to rain?'

'Pathetic fallacy Sandy, that's all.'

'Um honey, I never took a literature elective in college…'

She sighed, setting her mug in the sink with a quiet clunk before walking away, out of the kitchen and towards the front door, grabbing the car keys off the table.

'Where are you going?' Sandy called after her, trying not to sound too overprotective and failing rather miserably.

'Out,' was the inauspicious reply.

'When will you be back?'

'Later.'

Great. So much for carefully broaching the subject of the elephant in the room over coffee and the crossword.

'Well…take care honey. Love you.'

The response was the slam of the front door.

Sandy chose to pretend she just hadn't heard him. One step forward, two steps back and all that. Problem is, that just meant going backwards, one step at a time.

---

A.N. Fear not my pretties…I _will_ MAKE them talk…sometime!

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I admit I am crazy. Reviews are like medication.

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	20. Twice, Three Times

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Sorry again for the delay – but you can't just blame me, it's work and Kandy and Em's fault too (ducks to avoid death by flying paintbrush!). But it is long again to make up for it! Hopefully after 21 I will get almost a home run to the end. Not quite, but it'll certainly be better than it's been lately! Thank you so much for all your reviews, they mean so much to me.

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Chapter 20: Twice, Three Times

She didn't come back until late that evening but Sandy held his tongue when she arrived bearing Thai and smiling. True it was a fake one, but he was hoping to delay the argument about the number of voicemails he had left on her cell and so played along.

Come Monday she didn't set the alarm or try to go to work and he wondered if things were turning around. Sandy hated to hijack her good mood for his own ends and probably ruin it, but there was a conversation they needed to have as a family. And one with a bit more substance than whether the dumplings were too soggy.

---

'What are you two doing home?' a confused Kirsten asked on walking into the kitchen and finding her two sons sat at the island.

'Summer vacation?' Seth snapped in his 'dur-it's-obvious' voice, upset that his mother hadn't remembered and angry with himself for minding.

Ryan frowned slightly. Kirsten always knew the dates of _everything_; school, Newpsie events, building contracts, all major Christian and Jewish holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, she could reel them off whenever needed. Obviously not today. He refused to think 'not anymore'.

'Sorry,' she mumbled rubbing a hand across her forehead as she went for a cup of coffee. Sandy leaned in to kiss her as she passed him and she accepted it but didn't reciprocate.

'So…what's going on?' she asked, leaning against the sink with her cup of coffee, attempting to appear nonchalant despite the tense atmosphere.

The men exchanged awkward glances.

'Seth and Ryan are sat in the grounding chairs, are they in trouble already? It's only the first day of vacation!'

'No…actually,' Sandy began hesitantly, 'um…we were all gonna talk.'

'Oh.'

'As a family, about…our family, about the way things are right now. The way we feel, the way you feel...'

'Not before breakfast,' she said sharply.

'You know it's basically lunch time,' Seth pointed out.

She rolled her eyes at her son, the pedant.

'Well not on an empty stomach.' She was stalling, they all knew that but Sandy relented, reaching for a bagel and schmearing it for his wife. She accepted it with quiet thanks, eating slowly, mechanically, the bread and cream cheese like sawdust in her mouth. Taking a large gulp of coffee she glanced at the other half of the bagel and pushed the plate towards her husband. Sandy snaffled it quickly; conscious of the two boys with insatiable appetites only metres away.

'Well,' he said as he munched. 'Isn't this nice?'

'Let's just get it over with.'

Sandy swallowed the rest of the bagel in one gulp and began to choke. He reached for his mug of coffee, not realising Kirsten had topped it up, and took a swig, scalding himself. The result was an anguished yell and much coughing, spluttering and swearing. His sons slumped against the countertop, their laughter at their father's antics mainly just a nervous reaction to the friction in the room. Kirsten looked less amused.

'When your father has finished being a prat…' she muttered, unceremoniously handing him a cloth.

'Thanks honey, love you too,' he joked and received a withering glance from his wife which sobered him slightly, his serious expression returning. 'Do you…want to sit down?'

'I'm fine standing,' she replied. It was easier to make a getaway that way. She narrowed her eyes looking at each of the members of her family in turn, daring one of them to speak, to start this stupid conversation she didn't want to have.

'We're all worried,' predictably it was Sandy who began the charade. 'Things aren't right Kirsten and you know it. We can't live like this. We're concerned about you.'

'Well that's very nice but not necessary,' she responded coldly. 'I'm fine.'

'Don't do this Kirsten, don't shut off. We're your family and we all know you're not.'

'All I know is that you're interfering. There is nothing _wrong_.'

'I'm sorry honey but you can't deny it. I know it's not easy but you need to listen to us. I don't want you to keep hurting. Do you think it is easy living like this? I can't cope with you hurting, hurting yourself and hurting us.'

'Sandy, you're overreacting,' she hissed, glancing at the boys who were obviously in league with her interfering husband. 'Everyone is overreacting.'

'No we're not,' Sandy continued. 'We are simply recognising there is a problem. If it was one of us trapped in a spiral like this you know you'd help us. If someone else was hurting you'd want them to get help.'

'I don't know that. I think I'd recognise the fact everyone is entitled to grieve and I would _respect_ their _feelings_.'

'I just feel, we feel, that it can't hurt to speak to someone. Someone who understands better than we do; a professional. Whether it's a therapist, a counsellor, a psychiatrist, a doctor, it doesn't matter but you need to start dealing and after everything in the past as well…' He paused, his voice a little shaky. 'I don't know what else I can do Kirsten, I'm trying to live with what happened too and it's hard to keep both of us afloat. I'm sorry but I need you back.'

No answer. Kirsten stared right through him, anger bristling.

Her husband sighed and looked to his sons. Seth looked overwhelmed, but Ryan nodded and hesistantly cleared his throat. 'Kirsten…'

'Oh don't you say a word,' she spat before he could speak. 'This isn't about you or Seth, you don't know how I feel.'

Her son gulped nervously but spoke regardless of her harsh words. 'I know I don't, not really but I know someone who does. And she wouldn't talk to me, she wouldn't get help even though I asked her to and I lost her. I don't want that to happen to someone else I love.'

Kirsten felt guilt, thick as bile in the back of her throat. Why the hell had she lashed out at him like that? Ryan deserved so much better.

But still she couldn't back down. She was Kirsten Nichol Cohen; Nichols kept fighting, kept their wounds and weaknesses hidden. 'I don't know what you all think you're doing…' her voice was a shrill staccato. She was becoming panicked; they could all see it in her face; the blue eyes flicking back and forth, her jaw clenched, fingers twitching nervously beside her. 'But I am not talking to a complete and utter stranger about how I feel. I am _**not** going_.'

The last word was punctuated by Kirsten turning on her heel and walking away.

'Mom.'

She stopped, not turning round but obviously listening. Seth's voice was plaintive but even.

'Mom, _please_, you gotta do this.'

The room was silent aside from the ragged breaths Kirsten was taking, her head bowed. 'I _can't_,' she choked, the words turning into sobs. 'I'm…sorry…I just…_can't_.' Again she tried to leave but walked straight into Sandy's chest. He felt her struggle for a second before dropping her head onto his shoulder and crying into his shirt. The sound of stools scraping on the floor didn't register until two pairs of arms wrapped around them both, one set brawny, the other wiry. He was damn proud of his sons.

---

'O.K. I love you all but the man-hugging (no offence mom) is getting to me; I gotta flex my muscles or something.' As usual, Seth was the one to break the moment.

'What muscles?' his brother joked as they all separated.

Kirsten still had her head buried in Sandy's neck, sniffing as she tried to regain control, her face flushed and shiny with tears when she did finally emerge. Immediately Ryan was beside her with a box of tissues. She took one, smiling weakly. 'Thanks Ryan and sorry…for what I said.'

'It's okay.'

Kirsten dabbed her eyes, breathing deeply, Sandy's hand still at her back, rubbing gently.

'I…need to sit down,' she mumbled, suddenly exhausted.

Sandy steered her to the table and she sank onto a chair thankfully. The boys hovered nervously by the sink as Sandy sat facing his wife, both her hands in his.

'Honey…I hate to push you but...we have to do something.'

'I know,' she admitted quietly, 'but…'

'Kirsten, maybe it would be easier with someone you don't know. You're certainly not talking to us.'

'I don't _want_ to talk.'

'What about me?' he shot back at her. 'Don't you think I might want to talk about it?'

'That's not the same.'

'It's more similar than you think,' he told her, his voice low, heart exposed.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't apologise, just tell us you'll see someone, _talk_.'

'I can't Sandy, please. You know I can't. I have a hard enough time opening up to you and we've been married twenty years.'

'Yes I do know and I'm failing you…'

'No you're not.'

'Well I'm doing something wrong or you would be talking to me.'

'I can't talk to anyone.'

'That's where you're wrong. You are going to.'

'Sandy!'

'Kirsten, we're not pussyfooting around this anymore. The last few weeks have been hellish for all of us and you've been hurt most but you can't be like this forever. It's not healthy.'

She wanted to yell back at him but she didn't have the energy. Plus he was right. She hated how often he was right.

'You will see someone.'

That however, she was never going to agree with.

'Listen, Sandy…Seth, Ryan, I know you only want to help and I know it isn't fair on you being like this but you have to understand…' she burst out in one hurried, frightened breath. 'I'll _try_ and talk to you but I can't talk to a stranger, I just, _can't_. Really, I'm sorry. I am. But I can't and you can't make me. I won't.'

The tears were gone by now, her face firm, eyes steely. All three males recognised the old Kirsten unfurling somewhere inside the vulnerable woman she had become.

Sandy didn't want to give in but he did know he wasn't going to win. Not today, probably not ever. He'd lose her first.

His sons were looking at him and their eyes met, all defeated. Thwarted by the one woman they all loved.

He took a deep breath, the lawyer in him finding a compromise. 'You are going to talk to one of us. We don't care who. But you refuse point blank to go outside this family for help so you're going to be helped here. You are going to talk. Maybe only a few words at first, maybe only a sentence or two whenever you can, perhaps you'll cry, perhaps you won't, it may be to me or Seth or Ryan but you're going to do it. One or all of us, none is not an option.'

'Sandy! I can't offload on them, they're too young.'

'Honey, they're dealing with this already. They're almost adults, shutting them out isn't gonna help.'

'What he said,' Seth agreed.

'We're not exactly kids any more Kirsten. Please, just let us help if we can.'

'But I want you to be. I know you've both always been old souls but you should be enjoying your childhood…'

Seth snorted. 'Mom please, I have orbited the sun for seventeen years, less of the 'child' please.'  
His mother gave a quiet, tearful chuckle.

'I love you all so much, I'm sorry for putting you through this.'

'Just promise us you'll talk.'

Kirsten swallowed nervously but nodded, slowly.

'Well you're not going back to work until you do.' Sandy declared.

'That's blackmail,' she exclaimed.

'I don't care.'

'Sanford Cohen! Your morals are slipping,' she said teasingly, the mood lightening slightly.

'When it concerns you, you know I'd do anything.'

'I still think there is room for negotiation.'

'Oh here comes Caleb Nichol's daughter.'

'Sandy! Look, how about part-time?'

'No, we'll see about that later on. For now I don't want you anywhere near the office.'

'Working from home?'

'Why can't you just rest?'

'Because I hate resting. You know that's not me.'

'Kirsten…'

'Just listen to me. I won't overdo it but I _need_ to have something to do.' Her eyes were pleading and he knew it was true. It would be cruel really, to try and force her to do nothing.

'Fine, as long as you try talking to us I'll discuss working from home with your father'

'When?'

'Next week.'

'Sandy.'

'Yes darling?'

'For next week?'

'I meant I'd talk to him next week.'

'What about the weekend?'

'We'll see.'

-----

A couple of days later Ryan was in the garden when Kirsten stormed out of the patio doors from the kitchen. She stopped short when she saw him, tucking her hair behind her ears, obviously embarrassed. He could see his foster father at the table looking as if he was about to bash his head against it.

'I'm sorry,' she said when she saw his face. 'We really have to stop arguing when you and Seth are in the house, it isn't fair.'

Her son ducked his head, 'It's okay.'

'No, it's not. But apart from arguing we're fine. We love each other.'

'I know.' He did. One certainty he did have was that his foster parents couldn't stop loving each other even when they were hurt and angry.

Kirsten sighed and gave a wobbly smile. 'I should go…apologise.' She headed towards the bedroom doors.

'Kirsten? Sandy's still in the kitchen.'

She turned round, biting her lip; a slight flush colouring her face and letting him know she already knew that. 'I was…' she began.

'Kirsten…I know it's not really my place to say but…surely it's easier to talk to him?'

Tears welled up in her eyes and he immediately felt guilty, a feeling assuaged by Kirsten sitting down next to him on the pool lounger and hugging him.

'It is your place; you're part of this family. I'm trying, we're trying...but for some reason it's just not happening between Sandy and I.'

Ryan smirked. 'That sounds really wrong Kirsten.'

She laughed slightly at that. 'Well you'll be glad to know it's not like that.'

'Actually I don't mind…that much. At least it means you're happy.'

'Yeah,' she answered thoughtfully, wondering if _that_ would be easier than talking and perhaps more successful.

'Maybe you don't want to talk to him because you know it'll hurt him as well…maybe talking to someone else would be better…'

Kirsten drew away slightly.

'Not a psychiatrist or a therapist or anything,' he continued hurriedly, 'just…the doctor. See what she says.'

'_She_ suggested therapy. I don't _need_ therapy. I know I'm not dealing very well but she was my daughter… Maybe it's stupid to be this attached; I barely knew her. It's not like I lost you or Seth, thank God, it's just…I loved her too.'

Ryan swallowed. 'I…I understand,' he mumbled.

She nodded slowly, guilt flooding her eyes. 'Yeah. And here I am bringing it all up for you again…'

'It's okay.'

'I realise now I should have done more for you when it happened…'

'No. We were too young; it was a relief more than anything…even though I felt guilty for feeling that. But it doesn't mean I didn't care, right?'

'Of course not,' Kirsten soothed, her mind whirring.

Dealing with everything, getting over her grief, didn't mean she didn't care, right?

---

It gave Seth quite a shock to find his mother in his room. She didn't often cross the threshold anymore. Although she'd cried the night he'd told her he was 'too old to be kissed goodnight' she respected his wishes and didn't look in on him without a viable reason, although that did include the 'goodnight' minus the kiss. But now here she was, sat at the computer, the room in darkness. Her face, illuminated by the blue glow of the screen, was wet with tears.

'Mom?' Seth exclaimed anxiously.

'Oh hey sweetie,' she said looking up and hurriedly wiping her cheeks, 'I'm sorry; I had to email your grandfather some documents but the PC is on the blink again and my laptop is at work, I didn't touch your computer files, or anything in your room, honest.'

Her son smiled wryly, 'No worries mom…are you okay?'

'Yeah, yeah I am.'

Seth wasn't convinced; he could see her right hand agitatedly twisting the rings she wore on her left, a sure sign something was wrong. He looked at her pointedly and she hung her head, her tearstained face and shaky breathing were a give away really and she should know better than try to lie to Seth. He was a master.

'I…uh, took Ryan's advice and talked to the doctor…she sent me some links…to websites, forums…other people who've…had…,' Kirsten hesitated, '…who've lost…,' she paused and rephrased again, '…gone though the same thing, telling their stories, chatting. Some of these women Seth, they're so brave,' she gave a tearful laugh, 'so much stronger than me'. 'Some never realised for months, others suffered so much or they were alone through the whole thing. I don't know how they coped. Some of them have been through it twice, three times, more. They don't have children already and they just keep hoping. I'm so lucky. Thank God I have you Seth. I love you so much, so much.' Kirsten pressed a hand over her mouth to smother her sobs and headed towards the door. Seth didn't know what to say but he caught her as she passed, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her as tight as he could, just like he did when he was little. Only then it had always been her who comforted him while he cried into her shoulder, not the other way around.

-----

'Do you think I'm selfish Sandy?' she asked into the darkness one night as she and her husband lay silently side by side.

'No, why would I think that?' he asked startled.

'But I am; I've been incredibly selfish over this baby.'

'I don't think so and even if you were it's justified.'

'All I thought about was myself and how much it hurt. Not really about how it affected you or Seth and Ryan. And I have so much to be thankful for and I haven't been.'

'Hon-ey,' Sandy chastised gently.

'It's true.'

'Stop it Kirsten.'

'But…'

'It doesn't matter. It hurt you most so you were bound to think about it in relation to you.'

'I guess,' she said, not convinced. She was so incredibly lucky; she had no right to cry.

'Promise. You're not to worry about this.'

'I just don't want to be a spoilt, selfish Newpsie.'

'You couldn't if you tried.'

There were a few minutes of silence, Sandy trailing his fingers through Kirsten's hair and willing her to believe him.

'Do you still love me even though I'm not perfect?'

'Of course I love you. I always love you.'

'But…'

'No one's perfect.'

'But…'

'I don't love you because you're perfect or not, I love you for you. However, to me you are pretty much perfect.'

'You're biased.'

'You made me that way.'

'But…'

'But what? There aren't any of those in the way I love you.'

'But what about, what I did…all those years ago?'

'That's in the past. I love you.'

'I know, you said you still did but you didn't know if you could…'

'Forgive you?'

'Yeah.'

'Darling, I already have. I should have said before, I just…didn't want to bring it up again. I thought you knew. I wouldn't hold that against you this long, I understand and I love you.'

'I know…and you deserve more from me.'

'It's okay,' he lied.

'No. I know it's not. I'm trying, honestly I am, but talking to you…it shouldn't be this hard but it is.'

'I understand,' Sandy lied again.

'Really?'

He sighed but couldn't complete the hat-trick of untruths. 'No.'

'I'm sorry.'

'We'll get there,' he said, holding her close and swallowing bitter tears and resentment. Why _was_ it this hard?

-----

A.N. Ah yes, I do love to steal lines from Josh and reuse them! But hey, it's fun.

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All my reviewers are going to the top of the class and handing the pencils out! Who could ask for a better incentive?

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	21. A Few Hours

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Hey, hey, sorry for the wait life got hectic and then there was a thunderstorm! This is strangely short so apologies, it's not really a filler chapter – stuff happens, but as it only really spans one night I couldn't stretch it any more!

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Chapter 21: A Few Hours

'Are you sure you want to go to this thing?' Sandy asked as they dressed, his voice a near-whine making it clear how much he didn't want to go to this weekend's Newpsie function.

'I'm getting out of the house, I'm continuing my life. I can't forget Sandy but I'm moving on. Isn't that what you wanted?'

Her husband was a little taken aback by the sudden onslaught, 'I just meant we have a good excuse for not going,' he said, 'you know how I hate these events.'

Kirsten's irritation melted and she reached out to stroke the side of Sandy's face. 'Honey, we have to go, I've missed loads.'

'Loads? Kirsten, there's been about three.'

She raised an eyebrow.

'Okay maybe more than three but still…'

'I'm sorry.'

Sandy smiled resignedly, 'It's okay, as long as you do my damn tie.' His wife nodded, dropping a kiss on his lips before fixing the offending garment.

'Plus you agreed you'd talk to my dad about working from home…and tonight would be a good time to do it.'

'Why?' Sandy asked mutinously; he'd been planning to 'forget' to talk to his father-in-law.

'Because it's in public which means the pair of you can't do anything awful.'

'I wouldn't count on it, this is Newport.'

'Sandy,' she said warningly but left it at that; they were running late and the Newpsies would already be gossiping about her recent absence. She didn't need a late arrival to add fuel to the fire.

---

The BMW had been making a funny noise and was at the shop. This meant the Cohen family had to ride together to the event. Seth had shot-gunned driving at least until Ryan appeared in the passenger seat beside him and he realised his parents were in the backseat unchaperoned.

'Dad, front-seat, now!'

'But I'm happy here.'

'Mom,' he ordered, come sit up front.'

'We're already late Seth, let's just go.'

'Not until you two are split up. Ryan, please go sit between them.'

His foster-brother gave him a look out the corner of his eye. Enough said.

'Sethela,' his father cooed in a rather frighteningly good impression of The Nana, 'how about you come sit with us?'

He glanced round and gave his parents what he hoped was a withering look of Ryan-esque proportions. 'My Jew-fro is looking particularly spiff-tastic tonight; I do not want it ruined with saliva-swapping going on over my head.'

'That's gross Seth,' Ryan commented.

'Don't tell me,' he declared as he buckled up. 'They're the ones that need to be told.'

Sandy smiled at his wife and reached for her hand. She smiled, catching Seth's eyes in the rear-view mirror and waiting for the lecture.

'Now listen,' he began as expected. 'I have been incredibly generous letting you two remain together, please show the rest of us the same consideration by keeping your hands, and lips, to your _selves_ for the journey. Failure to do so will result in the _immediate_ application of the breaks which could be particularly dangerous on the freeway.' Satisfied he had made his threat clear Seth started the engine.

Kirsten glanced at Sandy a little apprehensively; normally he didn't waste any opportunity to gross out his sons but things weren't normal right now. She laced her fingers a little tighter with his letting him know she was okay, not perfect, but okay enough to kiss him in the back of the darkened Range Rover and pretend they were still twenty-two.

Sandy leant over to her so the boys couldn't hear. 'May I kiss you Mrs Cohen?' he asked teasingly, his lips pressing against her ear turning the question into a kiss in itself.

'What's going on back there?' Seth asked worriedly. 'Dad you're too close to mom, get back in your seat.'

'Keep your eyes on the road,' Kirsten warned him.

'We were just talking,' Sandy added his two cents worth.

'It's rude to whisper,' their son pointed out, turning on the radio. The older generation didn't argue with the choice of music; it gave them the perfect cover.

---

They'd had fun covertly making-out on the journey, only caught when they failed to realise they had reached their destination. The boys had opened the car doors; lights flicking on and caught the pair of them cuddled together mid-lip-lock and deaf to Seth's shrieks of disgust. The sound of the car horn broke the moment and they looked round to find Ryan looking a little embarrassed, one hand on the wheel ready to honk again. Seth was already outside pretending to be sick. Kirsten had giggled into Sandy's neck and shooed him out of the car, pausing to check her hair and makeup. Julie particularly could recognise kissed-off lipstick from a hundred paces. She and Sandy had entered the event hand-in-hand, immediately swamped by Newpsies eager to try and find out where she had been. Gossip was rife; a vacation to Europe, a nervous breakdown, rehab. None of them had come close to the truth; Julie having kept her promise even after the cause for it was gone. Kirsten was soon drawn into the group and so with a kiss on the cheek he slouched off to sit watching his wife do the social butterfly thing. A smile here, a touch there, a quiet deflection about her absence, another smile, laughter not ringing true. Accepting another glass of wine, offering up champagne for a toast, another flute, another glass, eyes a little larger, false laughter more frequent, words that never came so easily when she was talking to him flowing fast and freely from her mouth.

He watched jealously for a while until she was lost in the crowd, the Newpsie ranks closing around the woman they admired too much to hate and were too jealous of to love. Sandy couldn't decide which was worse; sitting alone waiting for her to finish charming everyone or mingling with her being bored and irritated by the shallow, pretentious pillars of the community.

He wandered around a little, chatted to a couple of people he could actually stand, gave his sons permission to slope off early to the bait shop or some party or other and then returned to his prime position chair right by the buffet. Neil Roberts sat with him for a while before his latest trophy wife caught him hiding, he chatted with one of the waiters, (an out-of work actor with a love of baseball) and was quickly losing the will to live trapped in a conversation with one of the lawyers from his old firm when he caught sight of Kirsten, yet another drink in hand, tripping past him on her heels, still upright, footsteps still even but with the almost invisible extra caution that came with being a little less than sober.

'Please excuse me,' he breathed in relief, gesturing towards his wife.

'Honey, are you alright?' he asked worriedly, catching her free arm and drawing her towards him, round the corner away from the other guests.

Kirsten's temper was constantly just below the surface these days and although she hated herself for it, Sandy was an easy target to snap at. She took in his anxious eyes and saw pity, felt the hand on her arm that was a little too supportive. She wasn't ill, she wasn't even drunk and she didn't need the suffocating concern that didn't let her forget about everything for just one night. She snapped.

'Sandy! I'm just spending a couple of hours being who they all think I am. Perfect Kirsten Cohen, not the Kirsten Cohen who just lost a baby. None of them know so none of them can care. I've spent so much time with people who care, care so much it hurts them and that hurts me. You and the boys have been wonderful but I can't cope with much more sympathy ok?'

She stopped, a little out of breath, a little guilty, watching hurt flash in her husband's eyes, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

'I'm sorry for caring so much,' he said coldly. 'But are sure you should be…' his eyes had shifted from her face to the glass in her hand. Kirsten frowned, eyes daring him to continue, to argue. 'I want this. What's it gonna do? The baby's gone. I haven't touched a drink for weeks; I haven't numbed myself with alcohol. I wanted to, God, but I promised you so I didn't. You are not going to deny me a social drink right now.'

'Fine,' he said exasperatedly, 'I just don't want you to…'

'I _won't_ Sandy, give me a little credit. You however don't have a leg to stand on.' He ducked his head sheepishly,

'Sorry, I guess I'm just rather protective right now.'

Kirsten softened, 'I didn't mean to snap at you.'

She had, but it didn't really matter; it meant for some interesting sexual tension that had been missing from all their recent arguments. 'Dance?' he asked hopefully.

Kirsten's lips curved into a delighted smile, 'With pleasure,' she told him, setting the glass down on a nearby table.

-----

'Let's go home,' she said a short while later, tracing his face with her fingers. Concern immediately radiated from him, 'Are you okay?'

'I fine,' she whispered enticingly in his ear, the alcohol giving her courage, 'I'm just _very_ bored of the Newpsies and there are better things we could be doing…'

Sandy was taken aback; Kirsten hadn't been this flirty for a very long time.

'Like what?' he asked cautiously, 'A little drainage work perhaps? Painting the pool house, sorting photo albums?'

'No!' she laughed, smacking his arm lightly, 'But if you're offering…'

'I think whatever you have in mind is fine,' he said quickly

'Good!' she said, taking his hand, 'Let's go then.'

---

They tumbled onto the bed, breathless and laughing, but continued to kiss fervently.

Suddenly Kirsten drew back, pushing his chest with her hands and clambering off the bed. 'What's wrong?' Sandy asked, sitting up with a puzzled expression on his face. A moment ago she'd been affectionate and keen, now she was withdrawing again. The physical side of their relationship was as good as dead, if only they could mend that perhaps other things would follow. It frustrated him that she wouldn't let him love her and he spoke his thoughts aloud, 'We haven't…for weeks. Christ Kirsten you hardly even let me touch you, even innocently.'

It was true; Seth didn't cry out in horror on discovering them canoodling in a corner, their bedroom door was never locked anymore, even the little things; a comforting hand or attempted hug were often rebuffed. Kirsten stood with her arms wrapped around herself as Sandy moved about the bedroom. His movements were forceful and his footsteps loud; he was cross, she knew it. She heard him kick his shoes into the closet and swear under his breath as his jacket refused to sit right on the hanger.

'I'm sorry,' she mumbled.

'Well you know what? I'm sorry too,' he said bitterly, stalking into the bathroom and slamming the door. Kirsten lifted a shaky hand to her face and brushed away the hot tears that had spilled down her cheeks. She knew this wasn't fair on him; acting like they used to and then backing off again but she couldn't help it. She'd thought it might be easier than trying to talk; they'd always been better at non-verbal communication, but it wasn't. Hearing the water running she sluggishly undressed and when Sandy reappeared she was sat cross-legged on their bed in his giant Berkeley sweater. He didn't meet her eyes as he slid into bed and she guessed he'd cooled off somewhat in the bathroom. 'Are you just going to sleep then?' she asked, a little fractious herself. They fought sure, but they didn't go to bed angry with each other; there was an unwritten rule.

Sandy sighed, his eyes flicking open and then closed again. 'I'm sorry,' he told her wearily, 'I shouldn't have got mad at you it wasn't nice and it wasn't fair. You take as much time as you need, I'm here to support you.'

'You don't have to say all that just because you feel you have to,' she replied, picking at the cuff of the jumper. Her husband sat up and looked at her, 'You really think that?'

'I'm not saying you don't mean it, you just don't want to.'

'Not true, this is tough but I shouldn't take it out on you, I should be more of a man than that. I didn't mean upset you about this again, honest I didn't,' he said, hanging his head and listening to the aching silence before his wife began to speak haltingly. 'I know. This was me this time, I initiated it and then I couldn't. I don't know _why _I can't, I just _can't_. It just feels…too weird, like I'd be doing something wrong. It makes me think…think of when we must have …you know, when the baby…'

Sandy nodded, tugging Kirsten down beside him and stroking her hair. She curled up to him as he drew the covers round both of them. 'It just hurts when you push me away when all I want is to hold your hand or something, I love you precious, please let me.'

-----

---

Is anyone still wading through this nonsense? War and Peace eat your heart out!

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	22. Within Seconds

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Bit of a short chapter I'm afraid, but you do get smut and scene setting for a little trip to somewhere beginning with B. Personally I think that's just what they need…who knows what could happen there. Next chapter will be up Wed night/Thursday morning without fail. Promise

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Chapter 22: Within Seconds

Kirsten watched lazily through half closed lids as Sandy, still damp from surfing, crept into their bedroom. He stripped off the faded blue T-shirt he was wearing and she felt a slight something run through her at the sight of his muscular back and toned arms. Was it desire? She loved her husband, completely and utterly, truly, madly, deeply, but actual animal desire she hadn't felt in a while. She'd still wanted him, wanted the relationship they used to have, but couldn't cope with the reality. Last night she'd been frightened but this morning it was as though something had stirred again and she knew she had to act on it.

Shaking his head vigorously, water droplets spattering the carpet, Sandy tiptoed towards his wife ready to wake her with the first of the day's many kisses. 'You're awake,' he said softly, surprised as her eyes opened before he reached her. She smiled, thinking how hot he looked with wet hair and how bright a blue his eyes were. Sandy leant forwards and instead of the only momentary brush of their lips that was now usual, he felt Kirsten's mouth crash against his own, her tongue begging admittance. Almost reflexively he obliged, deepening the kiss, but soon broke away. 'Kirsten?' he asked uneasily, they'd barely been talking recently, never mind this. Even last night hadn't been so passionate. She didn't reply, merely kissing him again, harder this time and pulling him on top of her. She could taste salt and coffee and feel grains of sand as her hands pushed through his hair and roamed down his back. As she tugged at his swim shorts he tried again, 'Kirsten?'

'Shut up Sandy,' she replied, distracting him far to well with her wandering lips and hands. Kicking off the shorts which were now round his ankles he slid his own hand under his too-big sweater that she was wearing again, and felt her warm skin quiver at his touch. In one swift movement it was over her head and lying discarded on the floor. His eyes hungrily took in her perfect body for a moment before it was pressed demandingly against him.

They writhed together, heated kisses pushing Sandy further towards the edge.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' He forced himself to pause and pant out the question before he lost control.

Did she want to do this? She didn't even know. Damn Sandy for being so polite and careful, couldn't he forget about being the gentleman for once?

'We don't have to, just because we…'

If he kept on like this she was going to crack, change her mind and she couldn't do that. Not now they were this close. They had to get back on solid ground. They'd always had a physical relationship they couldn't lose that, somehow she had to get past this.

'Please, just do it Sandy, _please_.'

He trailed a soft hand down her body, forcing himself to revert from the frenzied fervour to gentle affection. She felt tears pricking her eyes, 'Don't,' she muttered. The hand stopped immediately but that wasn't what she meant. 'Not like that. Don't be slow and cautious, just…' It had to be fast so she didn't have time to think.

Sandy nodded; it was agony to curb the urges and within seconds they were back to the passion of before; a turbulent meeting of hands, lips, skin, mouths, tongues and bodies.

---

Kirsten began to cry before it was over; silent tears sliding from under her eyelids, heavy breathing becoming high-pitched and her climactic moan more of a sob as she collapsed crying. She rolled over, away from Sandy and curled up in a ball, shaking with violent sobs. Sandy sat on the edge of the bed, his back facing hers, feeling guilty, incredibly guilty. He shouldn't have done it. He should have stopped himself, stopped her, not listened. But it had been so hard, so easy to give in. She was practically begging him and he couldn't refuse her for anything, she was so desirable, looked so good in his clothes. He was a man goddamit, how the hell was he supposed to say no? The Cohens were very sexual beings, but that shouldn't mean he should be a man first, husband second. He'd let himself get carried away and now his wife was weeping uncontrollably next to him. He didn't have anything left to say, didn't know what else he could do to comfort her, everything seemed to have the same effect; more tears. Feeling terrible he stood up and headed for the shower. Hot water to wash away the salt, sweat and scent of sex, ten minutes to think, figure out an apology, figure out where they could go next.

---

'Sorry,' he said when he reappeared, 'we shouldn't have, I shouldn't have…'

Kirsten, still curled up naked in the bedclothes but minus the tearstains, smiled softly at him, 'You didn't; it was me. I wanted to, I made you.'

'But I worried you about it.'

'Sandy…' she sighed, 'It's fine. We shouldn't have done it that way but it happened. And we needed it to. It was high time.'

'I…'

'Don't worry about it okay? I'm fine and it means next time won't be so…emotionally charged.'

'Are you sure? You don't want to forget about it for a while?'

She shook her head, 'Let's just take it slow; see what happens.' Her husband extended an arm and rubbed her shoulder, happy when she didn't pull away. 'I'm gonna go get dressed,' she murmured, dropping a kiss on his cheek. 'Love you.'

'Love you too.'

-----

One afternoon, a few days later, Sandy found Kirsten sat at the kitchen table surrounded by sheets of paper; graphs, figures, contracts and plans from the package her father had sent over first thing Monday morning.

Caleb had been surprised by the guilty phone call on Sunday; unaware of the events that had transpired the night before and that morning. He and his son-in-law had had a surprisingly lengthy and agreeable conversation the result being that Kirsten would receive all the documents not being dealt with by the temporary CFO but anything she couldn't manage was to be forwarded straight to Caleb. Sandy figured it was a good enough compromise and what Kirsten didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Particularly important in light of the fact he'd coerced Caleb consent in making sure that when his daughter did come back to the office it would be on better terms and only gradually becoming full-time.

He'd thought giving in to her work demands would make her happy, keep her focussed, perhaps make her sleep better at night if she was busy during the day, hopefully bring her closer to who she used to be. But it seemed to him more like she still wasn't quite ready for the pressure. Endless figures, blueprints, multi-million dollar deals, awkward contractors, measurements to be checked and double checked, fast judgements to be made. An entire business and reputation rested on her making the correct ones, on being exact with the numbers. The margin of loss or gain was always in six figures. He knew she didn't want to make a mistake, felt she had a lot to prove after her lengthy absence, was doubting her own abilities despite her intelligence and experience. For as long as he'd known her Kirsten had almost always exuded confidence, particularly in her work. Even when she was stressed there was that steely resolve and quiet confidence but today she looked frazzled, he noted, frantically searching through the mess and pushing her hair out of her face every few seconds.

'You don't have to do this now,' he said quietly, coming up behind her.

Kirsten jumped at the sound of his voice, knocking yet another pile of documents to the floor and bursting into tears. 'Yes, yes, I do,' she sobbed, hurriedly reaching for the papers. Sandy immediately swept them up and held them out of reach. 'Your dad is pushing you too hard.'

'He's got a business to run.'

'He's also got a daughter who only came out of hospital a few weeks ago.'

'He didn't say I had to do this okay Sandy?' she said angrily. 'Stop blaming him.'

'So you're forcing yourself?'

'I have to keep busy.'

'Kirsten…'

His wife rubbed her face with her hands, 'I'm fine, I'm fine.'

'You're not fine, you're crying over some crumpled paper.'

'Not…crying,' she muttered, tensing up as Sandy began to rub her shoulders.

'I was thinking, this weekend we could have a little break, maybe go down to Berkeley, well…up to Berkeley but let's not argue over technicalities.'

'Berkeley?'

'You, me and a little road trip.'

'Road trip? It takes seven hours.'

'Six, I checked,' he corrected. 'But if that's the way you feel we could always fly; just one hour…'

'I don't know Sandy. I don't really feel like going anywhere.'

'It'll do you good to get out of Newport for a while.'

'I should really try and talk to my dad; find out how things are at the office. I can't get the big picture with just these bits and pieces. That's the problem.'

'If we're gonna get through this, all on our own. No doctors, no shrinks as you call them, we're going to need to get back on solid ground.'

'What about the boys?'

'They're seventeen honey; I think they can manage to be responsible for a few days. If not, we have the joy of grounding them when we get back!'

'You enjoy that far too much.'

'I know,' Sandy grinned, ducking his head and kissing her. Kirsten hesitated and kicked herself. Why was she so nervous? This was her husband. They were past this awkwardness, or they had been until she had forced him into their impromptu tryst at the weekend. He hadn't exactly been complaining though, something she felt rather flattered about. He still wanted her. She had to stop thinking and just kiss him back.

'So, about the weekend?' he asked when they broke apart.

'Ok.'

'Ok as in 'yes' or ok as in 'I'll think about it, basically no'?

'Ok, yes.'

'Really?'

'You're right, we need this.'

---

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Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, not around the eyes, into my eyes. You're under. When you awake you will think 'I will review.' 3, 2, 1 and you're back in the room.

---


	23. The Weekend

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

---

OK well it's Thursday now but I count this as Wednesday night lol! I had to go to work but now I'm back here it is. The length of this and the next were determined by natural breaks but the rest will be longer! There will be 3 more updates before I leave but 27 might be a little delayed as I figure out uni and internet access there. Don't worry. It will definitely appear first week of Oct. Promise

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Chapter 23: The Weekend

The boys were left with a strict set of rules; 'no parties, ragers, drugs, alcohol or sex', and the threat of being sent to the Cooper-Nichol household if anything went amiss, while the two Cohens set off for Berkeley. The journey north was quiet and uneventful. A bleary-eyed drive to the airport during which Sandy had to keep reminding himself that his wife wasn't a morning person; that was the reason for her pale face and lack of enthusiasm, followed by a short flight. Arriving late morning, they spent a few hours wandering around remembering old haunts and discovering forgotten ones. One of these was the diner they stopped in for lunch, a place much frequented in their college days.

'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,' Sandy commented as Kirsten slid into the booth looking tired and tearful, 'you look exhausted.'

'It's not that,' she mumbled, reaching for the menu and finding her husband's hands in the middle of the table instead. 'Care to share?' he asked, clasping her hands. She shook her head, 'Let's just eat.' Sandy didn't push it but watched her through the meal and noticed her face when a woman with a pram was seated at the table just along from theirs or a heavily pregnant woman rushed in to buy coffee, grumbling that it had to be decaf. They'd almost finished lunch when a tiny little girl tottered over to their booth and stood looking at Kirsten. A moment later her mother hurried over, apologising and taking the child's hand to lead her back to their own table. The girl twisted round to look back at Kirsten and waved solemnly. Kirsten's eyes filled with tears and Sandy moved round to sit by his wife, hugging her against him. 'Everywhere I look I see children, babies, pregnant women,' she mumbled, 'I can't get away from them.'

Sandy knew what she meant; he'd noticed it too. That morning the world seemed full of prams, pushchairs and protruding bellies. It was only his mind playing tricks but if he felt like that, it would be a hundred times worse for Kirsten.

'How about we go back to the hotel, maybe…take a nap?' Sandy offered, eyeing his wife's pale face worriedly.

'I'm fine,' she replied crossly, the memory of other 'naps' springing to mind and making her miss those days, that feeling, that happiness.

'I was just offering sweetheart,' Sandy said, working to keep the bite from his voice as he was snapped at once again. Kirsten dropped her head immediately apologetic.

'I'm sorry, it's just…I'm not sick and I'm not a child.'

'I know but I don't know any other way to deal. I like to look after you.'

'You're too good to me.'

'You deserve it, now, I'm pretty bushwhacked so how about that snooze?'

'Bushwhacked?' As he'd intended, Kirsten smiled at that.

'Okay.'

---

When he woke an hour or so later Kirsten was still snuggled beside him, one arm around a pillow, hair splayed across her weary face. She still wasn't sleeping; plagued by nightmares which were no less painful despite reducing in frequency. It had taken all Sandy's powers of persuasion to convince her that sleeping pills weren't the answer. Hiding from the pain didn't make it go away; it was just easier in the short term. He knew which Kirsten he preferred sleeping with. As much as he hated to see her cry it was better than the unconscious shell, the Kirsten he loved absent, not that she was really there when awake either. Consequently the disturbed nights continue to take their toll on them both. He watched her sleep for a while but it became too painful; she still looked a pale imitation of herself and his head was crowded with memories and wistful thoughts of what should have been.

The balcony of the room looked warm and inviting in the late afternoon sun and thinking guiltily of a case only half-prepared for, Sandy took his laptop out to the table. It wasn't very successful; the screen failing to hold his attention, preoccupied with real life problems rather than yet another petty violation of the noise ordinance at Crystal Cove. He must have nodded off against his hand because the next thing he knew he felt there was someone watching him. When he turned round, Kirsten was stood leaning against the doorframe, smiling softly. She was wearing a loose robe he knew they hadn't brought and her extended stomach was visible, pressing the white folds outward, the way it should have been.

'Sandy?' she asked, but her lips didn't move. 'Sandy?'

He blinked and found his wife beside him looking anxious. The sight of her sans bump and healthy glow was startling and he had to look away as tears pricked the back of his eyes. Kirsten reached out and gently turned his face back to face her, soft fingers pressing firmly against his stubble. Two pairs of tear-filled blue eyes met and locked, a flurry of words and emotions passing silently between them. Sandy broke the connection first, uncomfortable with the display of emotion in front of his wife.

'It's okay Sandy,' she murmured as he ducked his head. 'You don't have to hide it. You don't have to pretend to protect me, I understand.'

Her husband shook his head and stood up, 'I'm gonna go shower.'

She followed him back in as he ducked back inside. 'Sandy?'

'Don't, please Kirsten, just don't,' was the choked response as he disappeared and she was left standing in the shadowy hotel room alone. She longed to lie back down and soak her pillow with the same tears that were soon swirling down the drain at Sandy's feet, but resisted the temptation. It was her turn to be strong, take up part of the burden she had let Sandy shoulder alone for too long. But right now, with Sandy denying anything was wrong, she would just have to direct her concern at her boys back home. And so instead of crying over her lost daughter, distant husband and failing marriage, Kirsten called her sons.

---

Sandy could hear Kirsten chatting once he had turned off the shower and guessed she had phoned home. He debated going out and talking to them himself; it would make him feel better he knew. Seth's crazy ramblings and Ryan's comfortable silences never failed to bring a smile to his face but he didn't want to test that theory. Plus, Ryan at least would pick up on his gravelly voice and the awkward vibe between his foster parents even over the phone line. It was easier all round if he stayed in the bathroom and finished shaving, or rather, strategically cutting himself as his mind flitted between the tangled knot of thoughts in his head and the half of the conversation he could hear through the door not the razor in his hand.

Kirsten was still sat on the bed toying uneasily with the phone in her hands when he finally reappeared. 'The boys are fine,' she said quietly.

'Good…good,' he answered, standing looking at her for a moment.

'You're bleeding,' she realised suddenly reaching up towards his chin, not commenting on his red rimmed eyes. Sandy jerked his head sharply away.

'It's fine, I just nicked it while shaving.'

Offers of antiseptic or kisses died on her lips and her outstretched hand crumpled and drew back, wounded. Guilt began to creep through his veins at the hurt expression on her face but for some reason he turned away rather than apologising, fumbling with his suitcase in a pathetic attempt to mask the awkwardness that had settled silently over them like a fog, coiling itself between them and making him feel worse. Alone together without the boys there was less reason to pretend and suddenly the cracks between them were transformed into a gaping chasm and for once in his life he couldn't find the words to bridge it.

He didn't want to feel this upset, this angry, this uncomfortable, this confused but he did and he sure as hell didn't know what to do about it. Kirsten's feelings he was tuned to, her emotions he could read and respond accordingly, his own, when he let them come unchecked, were more of a closed book and yet he was pushing away the one person who understood. Sometimes he hated how screwed up he was.

'Are…we gonna talk about what just happened?' she asked eventually and Sandy turned round to find her now twisting the rings on her fourth finger, the phone back in its cradle.'

'What?'

'You blanking me, bailing on a conversation, snapping at me?'

'Sorry.'

Kirsten sighed. 'It's okay, just…is there anything you want to say?'

'Don't make this an issue because it's not.'

'Uhu, well it is an issue because I'm worried about you.'

'You don't need to be.'

'And about us.'

'Kirsten…'

'Face it Sandy, you've been too busy looking after me to grieve, you're bound to resent me for that and…'

'Well I don't.'

'I just think we need to focus on you for a while, we need to talk about us.'

'Where do you get all this from? I'm fine, we're fine.'

'I know you're not and after the year we've had you can't say our marriage is perfect.'

'Stop it honey, you're picking holes in everything and making problems where there aren't any.'

'No, just because I want to talk about you this time.'

'There's nothing to talk about.'

'You know this kind of thing hits couples really hard.'

'Not us.'

'It is. We haven't grieved together and I've let you down.'

'I thought we were past the self-blame stage.'

'I knew everything would catch up with you sometime.'

'Quit with the psychobabble.'

'See, this is what I'm talking about; you're mad at me.'

'No I'm not…I just thought this weekend might be better. I thought we were trying to get away from it all.'

'I know, I'm sorry but…we're never going to be able to escape completely, this is who we are now.'

'It doesn't have to change who we are.'

'I didn't mean it like that exactly…it's just I can't forget or even pretend to.'

'I'm not asking you to.'

'Okay! …Then why are we fighting?'

The heated exchange suddenly deflated.

'See?' she asked. 'See how something isn't right between us, we're fighting over nothing.'

'And that's unusual?' he asked teasingly. Kirsten reached out to nudge him and he caught her arm, pulling her towards him. They fell together, Kirsten clutching her husband to regain her balance.

'I love you,' he said urgently, cupping her face so she couldn't escape his eyes.

'Does that mean you'll tell me what's wrong?'

Sandy sighed, 'I prefer your usual answer.'

'And you'll get it as long as you promise to talk to me.'

'I'm impatient I guess, that's all. I want you to be happy.'

'I _am_ happy.'

'You know what I mean.'

'Seriously honey I'm doing fine, well, better, but you can't always fix everything.'

'I can't help it.'

'I know, I love you.'

---

A.N. I'm not planning on writing their entire conversation. Is that gonna disappoint you? I just feel we know what it's about, I don't want to get repetitive. But I'm open to suggestions. Let me know!

---

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'Tell me princess, when was the last time you let your heart decide?'

Leave me a review.

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	24. Two Hours

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Hey my dears, here I am again. I came to a compromise over the conversation, it's not great but seeing as I wasn't going to write anything it could be worse. Then we get some fluff! Just had the shift from hell at work and have to be back there in 9 hours. So leave me a review and make me happy!

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Chapter 24: Two Hours

The long overdue talk had gone on late into the night, interspersed with tears and room service. It began with Kirsten insisting they sat where she could see Sandy's eyes, refusing to let him hide anything from her. A silence followed and they looked at each other. 'You wanted to talk,' he pushed and immediately regretted it as his wife struggled to hold back tears. Sandy looked away so he wouldn't have to meet the hurt, glassy orbs, her bitter response accosting his ears.

'Don't, Sandy. This is hard enough as it is.'

There was another silence, prickly this time, before she made her first, halting confession.

'I…lost my baby. She died.'

He gently corrected her. Exchanging 'I' for 'we' and 'my' for 'our'. Their eyes met again, both glistening and he held his hand out towards her. She took it, kneading her fingers into his, letting him know he was forgiven for his earlier words.

They talked, slowly at first; having difficulty finding the words. Kirsten admitted that she had wanted her more than she had realised. Sandy said he didn't know how to say how he felt. His wife began to name the emotions that had haunted her for the past few months, Sandy recognising much of what she said and telling her so. They had dealt with them differently but now it was time to face them together. They found common ground in those feelings, weaving the torn threads in their marriage back together, cemented by the tears they wiped from each other's faces and the love in the tender kisses they shared when the words ran out. They held one another and asked forgiveness; absolving themselves, each other and their baby of blame. It was no one's fault. It was just they way things were. Hours passed as they began to piece together their acceptance until, drained by the emotion, they fell asleep curled together on the bed that had heard so much of their pain.

---

Saturday was better; a good night's sleep and some sunshine doing a world of good. Kirsten was obviously trying too, but not in the false way she did in Newport.

'Did anyone ever tell you how cute you are?' Sandy asked, laughing at Kirsten who had ice cream on the end of her nose as they walked along the quayside. She smiled bashfully, 'Maybe,' giggling as he bent forward to lick it off.

'Who was that?' he questioned, pretending to be jealous.

'Hmm, one of my admirers.'

'Well I can't argue with their thinking.'

'You're the only one I listen to.'

'I feel honoured.'

Kirsten poked him, 'I love you, you know.'

'I have that suspicion sometimes, not often but…' he trailed off as his wife kissed him to shut him up.

---

The continued out of the harbour and along to the beach, Kirsten snaffling the remainder of Sandy's ice-cream while he took off his shoes.

'Hey!' he remonstrated when he straightened up. His wife smiled sweetly and offered him her shoes to carry.

'You know, after that nasty trick I think I should make you carry your own shoes.'

Kirsten's response was to flutter her eyelashes and he relented, catching her hand as he took them and pulling her towards him. She met his lips hesitantly, surprised when the kiss lengthened. These days he was usually hesitant, careful around her, not wanting to pressurise her into anything. For the most part she appreciated it but lately she'd surprised herself by feeling a little disappointed when he kissed her cheek rather than her mouth. Today however she was feeling tentative again, responding awkwardly to the hands caressing her body and the tongue gently yet relentlessly probing her mouth.

'Sandy what are you doing?' she asked, reaching up to capture his face and pull him away. However she knew the protests weren't simply because she was embarrassed to be making out like a teenager on a public beach, but because she'd felt something like a hint of what she used to feel like and that scared her. Or perhaps what scared her was that it felt so different at the same time.

Sandy immediately looked abashed, 'I'm sorry…I'm just trying to prove to you that things can go back to the way they were.'

'It's not gonna happen,' she said sadly. 'Things have changed.'

'But it can be ok again, _we_ can be ok?' He could hear the pleading note in his voice, no longer able to hide his need for some meagre reassurance.

Kirsten looked into her husband's earnest eyes, drinking in the love she saw there and spoke impulsively.

'I haven't said this enough recently but I love you.'

She hadn't said yes but it didn't matter. These three words meant more than that. 'I love _you_.'

'Everything you've done Sandy, I appreciate it, I do. Thank you for putting up with me, I know I've been…difficult.'

'Oh honey I couldn't not. I need you as much as you need me. And you couldn't help it; you were just struggling to cope with it all.'

'What did I do to deserve you?'

'I don't know,' Sandy joked, 'but you pay your way.'

Kirsten threw her head back and laughed; real, happy, heartfelt laughter. It made her body shake and her eyes shine. She hadn't laughed like this in a long time and it was then that Sandy knew she was really going to come back. It wouldn't be immediate but she would. He could see his Kirsten in her eyes, hear her in the laughter, taste her in the kisses. His Kirsten was coming home.

'Oh Sandy,' she said breathlessly, tears of laughter at the corners of her eyes, 'you're crazy.'

'You love me,' he declared.

The wind caused her hair fly out around her and whipped away her reply, but he knew what she said. 'I do,' she cried out across the ocean, 'I love you, I love you, I love you.'

-----

'Where do you want to eat tonight?' Sandy asked.

His wife smiled and scrunched up her nose. 'I don't know,' she groaned lazily, 'you choose!'

He laughed; Kirsten hadn't even opened her eyes to answer, too busy soaking up the sun to concentrate. They were lying on the beach, Kirsten having decided on the current activity, or lack of it, and consequently Sandy was bored.

'You know I'll pick something you don't like,' he complained drawing patterns in the sand.

'Well don't.'

'But that's just like you choosing.'

She smirked. 'Go figure.'

He poked her with a sandy toe making her wiggle in protest. 'Just tell me where you want to go?'

'Mmm,' she murmured, rolling over to face him, her eyes teasing. 'How about we go some place romantic, like where you took me on our first date…oh wait, that wasn't romantic; it was the back of a mail truck.'

'There were candles.'

'Only after we'd finished enough bottles of wine to stand them in,' she retorted.

'Like you were complaining.'

'_You _were just trying to get me drunk.'

'Only a little. So you didn't like my wine and pizza?'

'Yeah I did, it was the two hour wait for it I didn't like.'

Her husband looked a little wounded and she hurriedly continued. 'But that didn't matter, we had fun.'

'Sure?'

'I agreed to a second date didn't I?'

'Yeah,' he admitted hesitantly.

'It was a great night,' Kirsten insisted. 'One of the best.'

'Really?'

'Yes really.'

'Wow,' he teased, 'and we didn't even sleep together.'

'Sandy!' she chastised, laughing again. Her husband interrupted the sound with one even sweeter to his ears, that of kissing her and Kirsten kissing him back.

---

In the event they ended up eating at a fancy restaurant across town. Sandy figured that having roughed it at the diner and a picnic on the beach, Kirsten would appreciate it. You could take a girl out of Newport, but you couldn't take Newport out of a girl as they said. She had spent close on thirty years of her life there and as much as they said the years in Berkeley were the best of their lives Newport did have its moments. And silk sheets. Plus, he wouldn't say no to a decently cooked steak either.

Much to Kirsten's confusion her husband insisted on taking a cab there and, to her chagrin, walking back. It wasn't _that _far but she couldn't resist pouting for a good ten minutes, complaining about ruining her shoes and refusing to hold Sandy's hand. He just laughed and pointed out how many times he'd had to walk further then this, clear across campus, to visit Kirsten.

'Uhu,' was the unimpressed response, 'when you were stalking me that is. Once we were dating you cashed in on me being willing to walk it.'

'Not my fault my place had a better ambiance.'

'You think your mail truck had ambiance?' she asked incredulously.

'Not exactly,' he was forced to admit. 'But at least it didn't have an evil, spying roommate.'

'She wasn't that bad.'

'Kirsten! The whole reason we met was because your roommate was so awful that you spent all your time with that other girl who took you to the Halloween party.'

'I guess that was the silver lining…no don't start singing,' she warned but it was too late. Sandy was already halfway through the first line of Hi Ho Silver Lining and encouraging her to join in. He looked so happy, his face alight with a boyish grin which masked the lines and shadows that had crept into his handsome features over the past few months; she couldn't refuse.  
After hastily scanning the empty street to make sure there was no one to hear her, Kirsten joined her husband singing the silly song, albeit in a softer voice. The melody of their voices twining together as Sandy began to harmonise reminded her of singing Seth to sleep when he was a baby. The three of them balanced on an old rocking chair, the only other piece of furniture in Seth's room beside his cot, rocking and crooning lullabies late into the night.

The memory caught her by surprise and she could feel tears beginning to make her voice waver. She swallowed hurriedly, determined not to spoil the moment. Today they were doing so well, being themselves, being happy and she wanted to keep it that way. Sandy reached for her hand and this time she accepted it, loving both the comfort it brought and the fact he knew she needed it. They finished the song and walked in silence for a while, enjoying the quiet night and each other's company. Suddenly Sandy stopped on a street corner and took her other hand to draw her towards him, smiling secretively.

'Why are we stopping?' she asked and at once knew why.

---

Just Do It.

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	25. Midnight

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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You guys! I'm just totally speechless (ok, obviously not literally) from the response to chapter 24. The fluff was worth waiting for I take it! Hope you enjoy the flashback, the fluff, the smut and the talking which follow. Thank you so much

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Chapter 25: Midnight

'Why are we stopping?' the Kirsten of more than twenty years ago asked the boy stood beside her holding her hand. A twenty-two year old Sandy Cohen smiled that same secretive smile and chuckled at her. A pair of bright blue eyes were fixed inquisitively on his face and he lost himself in them for a moment, not knowing that he would have all the time in the world to stare into them. That he would get to see them almost every morning for who knew how long. That he would get to see them in a thousand guises, revealing a hundred secrets, keeping a hundred more, telling truth and lies without words. He would know them blue, green and grey with different emotions. He didn't know that one day these eyes and his would be able to have entire conversations, that they would say _yes_ and _I do_ to his questions even before she did. He didn't know, didn't even think it, so he was drinking in those eyes while he had the chance. For this was only their first date.

Kirsten looked into the eyes of her date trying to work out what he was up to. One thing she was sure of was that she would be surprised. This was the guy who had worn a paper bag over his head to a Halloween party, lived in a mail truck and had kept her entertained for almost two hours when the pizza failed to arrive. Kirsten Nichol had experienced the best of everything growing up and been taken to endless fancy restaurants by Jimmy and the few other boys she'd dated, yet those times didn't compare to tonight.

There had been no pressure and no pretensions; Sandy had been straight with her from the moment they met. His offer to 'go out, or rather, stay in the back of my mail truck with some takeout,' had been nervous and genuine. Accepting it had been one very good decision.

Once she'd managed to stop his apologising for the state of his truck they fell straight back into the comfortable rapport of the night they met. They talked openly, the cheap wine urging them into laughter and the pizza, when it did finally arrive, was one of the best she'd ever tasted. The last time she'd had so much fun? She couldn't remember.

It was a shock to realise it was nearing twelve, and, knowing they both had early classes the next day, Sandy had got up reluctantly from the floor and offered to walk her home. And now, with no idea that they would be here again so many years later, they were stood on a nondescript street corner in the middle of Berkeley.

'Do you know where we are?' Sandy asked and she glanced around for the signs on the post above them.

'On the corner of Jefferson and Channing?'

'Aside from that?'

'No.'

'We're halfway between your place and mine.'

'Oh,' she answered, 'that's nice.'

'I know you're probably thinking that was really random and wondering why I know,' he began to ramble, 'but I'm not really a stalker or anything, I just noted it and…'

'It's okay Sandy; it's sweet…sort of.'

'So you don't think I'm a stalker.'

'No,' she told him, laughing, 'I know you are.'

He laughed too. 'Sorry if I scared you I just…wanted to get to know you.'

'Flattery Mr Cohen?'

'Maybe a little. So you didn't mind?'

'Don't worry about it. I was told you were harmless, if a little crazy.'

'And I guess I'm not doing very well disproving the latter.'

'Not really. The halfway thing did kinda throw me.'

He ducked his head, obviously embarrassed. 'I said it because…I really want to say something else…'

'Yes?'

'I'm gonna break the first rule of law here and pose a question I don't know the answer to but…can I ask you something?'

'Sure.'

'That wasn't the question by the way.'

'I know,' she said, smiling affectionately.

'Just so I don't worry about it the rest of the way…'

'Say it Sandy, you've been strangely quiet for ages.'

'I wondered…if you'd maybe…possibly…perhaps want to go out again…with me?'

'Or stay in?' she asked teasingly.

'Yeah or that,' was the sheepish response.

'I'd love to.'

'Really?'

'Yes really.'

Sandy fought the urge to do a celebratory dance while Kirsten mused over his insecurity; couldn't he tell she'd had a great time?

'In that case…can I ask you another question?'

'Ask away.'

'When we…uh, get to your dorm, can…could…may I kiss you goodbye?'

'You can kiss me now.'

Sandy looked so hesitant she hurriedly backtracked. 'If you want to that is.'

'Oh I want to, I was just giving you time to change your mind.'

'You're such a gentleman.'

'I try,' he said, easing himself closer and slipping his free arm around her waist. Kirsten glanced up at him through modestly lowered lashes to find nervousness in the expressive eyes. Glad to know it wasn't only her heart that was thumping rapidly in her chest, not only her breath that was catching in her throat, she closed her eyes. It felt like forever before their lips met in their first kiss and time no longer mattered.

When Sandy began to pull away after one short, sweet kiss, she reached up to wind her arms around his neck and keep him there. She felt him smile against her mouth and tighten his arms around her. Then she was lost again, more confident lips caressing each other and tentative tongues making love as they kissed on the midnight street.

---

'Kirsten?' Sandy was asking worriedly, 'Kirsten?'

Her voice sounded very far away when she answered, 'Yes?'

'You zoned out there for a minute honey.'

'I was just remembering why we've stopped here,' she said, glancing at the sign post.

Sandy smiled, relieved she hadn't forgotten, chastising himself for thinking she might. 'Well in that case, can I ask you something?'

Kirsten didn't answer, twining her arms about his neck and kissing him full on the lips. He kissed back, the gesture all the sweeter for all the kisses between then and now but with the same intensity it had had all those years ago. They had changed, their lives had changed, Berkeley had changed, the signpost, the sidewalk and the scenery had changed, but it was the same street corner and the love that had begun that night was the same.

-----

'Today was good?' Sandy said, not sure whether it was a statement or a question. Kirsten nodded and cuddled up to her husband who was flopped on the bed. 'Yeah, thanks Sandy.'

'It was…fun.' And it had been, he mused. Fun like they used to have, just a guy and a girl hanging out. No pressure, no responsibilities, no problems. Life wasn't like that anymore but it was nice to pretend for a while. Spend some time together without thinking about any of the shit or the drama. Or sex. Today they'd been like a teenage couple…a young couple, still in the 'honeymoon' stages, he amended, reflecting that they'd been pretty sex-crazed in college. Just having fun together, holding hands, kissing, nothing more.

'We don't have much time for fun anymore.'

'Well we'll have to make time.'

Suddenly Sandy suspected there might be something 'more' to the 'nothing more'. Kirsten's eyes contained a mischievous glint he knew well but barely recognised these days.

'Really?'

He felt her lips brush against his, slowly tentatively but unmistakably. Sandy returned the kiss with a little more weight but not much, letting Kirsten take control. She shifted a little closer and her husband used the opportunity to slide his arm round her, one hand gently stroking her back, the other caressing her cheek.

'Is that the best you can do?' she asked teasingly, a few soft kiss filled minutes later. In reply Sandy trailed kisses across her face and down her neck, his wife tilting her head back in ecstasy. Her hands moved to his hair, tugging him up to her mouth again, tongue delving to find his, insisting on further intimacy.

---

This time Sandy was careful, and slow, and gentle. Taking everything moment by moment, inch by inch, kiss by kiss. He touched every curve and every curl, covering her entire body, every inch of skin first with his fingers and then with kisses until each nerve quivered. Kirsten didn't cry. She didn't close her eyes and try to imagine it wasn't happening. Her eyes were blue-flame hot and focused entirely on her husband who stared back with the same look of utter adoration. This was more than sex it was making love.

-----

'You're looking better,' he told her on Sunday morning. And she did; cheeks rosy, eyes bright in the sunshine slanting in through the half-drawn curtains.

'I feel better,' she smiled coyly, 'Could be something to do with how you made me feel last night.'

'And how was that?' he asked, his voice teasing as he ran his fingers across her bare shoulder.

'It might make you big-headed.'

'Not possible.'

Kirsten coughed pointedly.

'Ok you couldn't make me any bigger-headed.'

'You make everything better.'

'I try.'

'You make me feel…I don't know; I can't explain. I don't just mean the sex, although that's pretty good, it's everything…' she paused as she saw Sandy pouting. 'What?'

'Pretty good? _Pretty good_?'

'I'm trying to keep that ego of yours in check.'

'A man's ego is only a big as his…' Kirsten muffled the end of this declaration by pressing her palm over her husband's mouth. 'I did _not_ want to know that.'

Sandy smiled and twisted his head to catch Kirsten's fingertips in his mouth. 'I'm just telling you I can't help it.'

She giggled, 'I'd better not try to reduce your ego then.'

'Not if you want to keep feeling better.'

-----

Sandy watched his wife pick at the in-flight meal that evening, recognised the vacant expression in her eyes as she stared out into the darkness pricked with tiny lights far below, and knew there was something on her mind. Who was he kidding? They both had a lot on their minds, but this was obviously troubling her, something she wanted to say but wasn't. He hoped beyond hope that she would voice her thoughts before they landed; anxious that back in Newport she would cloak her feelings once again.

Kirsten felt his gaze and even though there was no way she could deny how distracted she was, instinct made her defensive.

'What?' her eyes demanded, even as she revelled in once again being able to silently communicate with her husband.

'You know what,' his flashed in return.

This time she raised an eyebrow.

He raised one back and she sighed, her eyes dropping from his. 'It's just…' She shook her head, almost imperceptibly, trying to banish the thought but it was still there. And she could still feel Sandy's eyes boring into her. He probably already knew she reasoned. 'Just…we always wanted another baby,' she said wistfully, her voice barely more than a whisper even though the small plane was half empty and there was no one nearby to hear.

'Yeah,' he agreed softly. 'I'm sorry we've never…'

'It's okay, it's not like we didn't have the chance. Not as though we still don't…' she laughed slightly, making it a throwaway comment, but he knew what she was thinking.

'I know sweetie but…we couldn't possibly. I would do anything for you but… I don't think we should.' He paused, hating to say this but frightened by the idea. 'We _can't_ Kirsten; we can't go through it again. I won't let you get hurt, not like this.'

'I know.' Her voice was very small.

'I don't want us hurt again.'

She swallowed quietly.

'I could have lost you,' he said fervently. 'That day, I don't think I've ever been so scared. However much I mourn the baby I'm always thankful it wasn't you. You know what that would do to me?' Sandy stopped, unable to articulate the thought of the unspeakable.

Kirsten bit her lip, 'I'll never leave you, I couldn't leave you.'

'Well I'm not letting you go.'

Kirsten smiled, 'It's not like…I want to…to…'

'Try again?'

'Mmm…I just…don't want to have lost her.'

'I know. Me either.'

He felt a small, cold hand edge under his and curled his fingers around it. She stared at their hands, knowing her voice would wobble if she tried to speak again just yet.

'I know…' she began slowly, 'I know I have you and I love you, so much, it's just…she left and the boys are leaving and…' she trailed off. Sandy switched hands so he could continue to hold hers and put an arm round his wife. She cuddled into him letting the security of his arms, the soft rumble of his chest as he spoke in a low voice and his soothing words comfort her. He told her he would always be there, that because she loved them she had to learn to let her children go. That he felt the same way, he knew it was hard but they'd be okay.

Kirsten nodded, declining the tissue he offered. 'It's just going to be so strange with them away at college, that's all. I don't mean to be so…wet about it.'

'You're not,' he insisted. 'But it'll be fine. Honest. They'll visit, come home for holidays, you'll probably hijack the Newport Group's jet to go see them anyway.'

'They'd disown me,' she joked but the laughter didn't quite reach her eyes.

'What is it honey?'

'It's just…when we left for college, we _left_. Admittedly I didn't manage to avoid Newport for very long but it was still a break, an escape. I didn't talk to my dad for two years after I went to Berkeley…and then not for two after our wedding.'

'That's different. At least I hope I'm different to your father!'

She laughed at that. 'You hardly ever went home either.'

'Now that _is _different.'

'How?'

'It's my mother.'

'Sometimes I think I'm so like my parents and it kills me. Seth's been desperate to leave for years. I'm scared they won't come back home.'

'They will. We're here.'

'Well as long as you are, I will be too.'

Sandy paused, looking at his wife, 'You know…we don't have to stay _here_. Well…not _here _as such because here is 30,000 feet up somewhere over California but, you know what I mean; in Newport.' He rambled, Kirsten smiling at him indulgently. 'When the boys are at college we could move, go travelling, buy back the old house in Berkeley…'

'We don't know it's still there.'

'I meant to go see this weekend, guess I got distracted. Just means we have to go back!'

'I don't know Sandy. Sometimes I hate it in Newport…other times…it's home.'

'Know the feeling. When the sun's shining, the surf's up and I haven't pissed you off too much, I kind of like that place!'

'Aw honey. Well, I don't mean we can't think about it.'

'It was just a suggestion, I didn't mean I wasn't happy or…'

'Sandy! It's okay. It was a good suggestion.'

---

Kirsten fell asleep in the car on the way home and Sandy watched her, smiling as she murmured his name in her sleep. He was thankful her dreams appeared pleasant; it hurt to have her call his name with a voice full of tears and not be able to wake her from a nightmare. He was tired too; perhaps they shouldn't have stayed up _quite_ so late last night. But now Kirsten was back on form they had to make up for lost time. She slept almost the entire journey, not even stirring when they pulled up the drive to their overly-large house. Sandy shook his head; it still got to him sometimes. His life. Not that he'd change it for the world now, but still. It was pretty crazy. He often wondered which poor soul was living the life meant for him.

He gently shook Kirsten but she crinkled her nose and turned the other way.

'We're home honey.'

No answer.

He couldn't decide whether she was really asleep or just pretending so he'd carry her. Ah well, he didn't mind, he reflected, climbing out of the car and moving to open the passenger door.

He often wondered how things turned out this way.

Sandy lifted his wife, looping her arms around his neck and she snuggled into him.

'Love you.'

He thought about that too; why Kirsten loved him.

'Love you too baby.'

But most of the time he was just damn glad.

-------

Seth immediately looked concerned on opening the door to see his dad with his mother in his arms.

'Is mom ok?' he asked.

'She's fine,' Sandy insisted, 'just asleep.'

Kirsten yawned and opened her eyes, 'Not asleep.' She caught sight of her two sons' worried faces and felt embarrassed at being in such a un-mom-esque position. 'Just tired,' she told them, wriggling so her husband would set her down.

'Good weekend?' Ryan enquired, stumbling through the front door carrying their suitcases.

Sandy caught his wife's eye, there was no way Seth or Ryan were ever going to find out they hadn't left the hotel room all day today.

'Yes, it was great. Thanks Ryan, I could have got those.'

'No worries.'

'Tiring weekend?' Seth questioned, watching Sandy stifle a yawn himself.

'Um, Yeah.'

'I'm hoping that's because you fit so much sight-seeing into your three days; open-top bus tour, museums, galleries, ghost walk, opera…am I right?'

'There isn't a ghost walk in Berkeley.'

'Well for my peace of mind I'm going to pretend there is.'

'Son, you've got to come to terms with the fact that your mother's a hottie and I got her. You expect me not to take advantage of that?'

'Ugh _Dad_!'

Ryan had his hands over his face and was laughing. Kirsten slid an arm round his shoulders. 'I do apologise, I hope we're not scarring you for life, I know Seth insists we are.' Her foster son smiled, Seth didn't know how lucky he was. Ryan knew what it was like to be scarred, physically, emotionally, with fists, with words. Hearing about your parent's sex life, although particularly undesirable, didn't hurt.

-----

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N.B. Chapter 26 may take a while so apologies if I don't get it up before I leave on Sunday. It's just I decided an extra chapter was needed (it always kinda existed but not separate) the other chapters are all done. Sorry

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Please review. I'd sing it on a mandolin dressed up as a jester if it would help.

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	26. Tomorrow

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Gawd, dunno what this chapter is gonna be like…it was 'Parent Formal' last night where your college 'parents' (and extended family) try to get you drunk by chucking corks in your wine and making you down it. I corked a lot of people back though, including my 'granddad' who is head of security…maybe that was a bad idea!! Anyway, as you can see uni is kinda crazy but I'll post up the rest fast because it's all done!

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Chapter 26: Tomorrow

Kirsten woke in a _very_ good mood; her husband could vouch for that. But even as she forced him out the shower after round two so she could actually wash, his smug smile giving her her own sense of satisfaction, she could feel her spirits sinking. Even with his kisses still burning her skin, the exhilaration only just fading she felt the creeping tendrils of the depression she had been flirting with and succumbing to over the past couple of months. Despite not being certain that she had all the shampoo out of her hair Kirsten fled the bathroom and the haven it gave for muffled tears. She wasn't doing this again. She wasn't letting this happen.

Damp but dressed; a few minutes later she was in the kitchen attempting to banish her blues with bagels and the banter of her boys. From what she could hear as she approached, Sandy was beginning his interrogation about their sons' weekend.

'If this is about the pool filter…' Seth was saying.

'What about the pool filter?' she asked, entering the kitchen.

Her son's face blanked quickly, 'Uh, nothing. Good morning mother dearest. You're looking very well this morning.'

'Hmm, thanks.' Kirsten answered, smiling as her husband nuzzled her neck whispering, 'I wonder why.' She tried to fight the blush brightening her already glowing face but failed. She coughed into her coffee, nudging her husband and turning to Ryan, the smirk on his face letting her know he was definitely a step ahead of Seth.

'How are you Ryan? Do you happen to know anything about the pool filter?' The smirk dissipated almost immediately as he struggled with a suitable explanation. Smirking herself, Kirsten leant against Sandy, his mood not noticeably dampened by her chastisement if the lustful looks she was getting were anything to go by. Seth and Ryan exchanged frantic glances and she smiled wickedly at them, the icy clutches of grief and panic receding; warmed by the hot coffee and being at the heart of her family. 'Well?'

---

'Where's my daughter then?' Caleb demanded, striding into the house not having waited for anyone to open the door. 'Oh, so you did come home,' he said as he saw Sandy. 'Thought the pair of you might have gone to Berkeley and not made it back.'

'Obviously not' his son-in-law pointed out, not-so subtly blocking the way into the kitchen.

'Well you are a little old to elope.'

'We're already married.'

'Well it is something you always threatened; heading back up north. Why, I don't know…'

Kirsten caught her husband's eye as he glanced over his shoulder at her, both thinking guiltily of the conversation on the plane. Her father took advantage of Sandy's lapse in guard duty and sidestepped round him into the kitchen. She buried her head in the newspaper, loath to give him the time of day without making him work for it. Caleb however, knew how to play the game; he reached into the cupboard for a mug and poured himself some coffee, movements unhurried, demeanour calm, apparently patient. He settled back against the counter and surveyed his daughter, watched in turn by Sandy.

She turned the pages slowly, feigning interest in the features when really she wasn't reading a single word, sneaking glances at the two men through her eyelashes. Eventually she couldn't take it any longer.

'What Dad?' she snapped and Caleb chuckled. She glared. 'Did you just come here to drink our coffee and laugh at me?'

'No,' he said, smiling because she had called him dad. 'I wondered how you were.'

'Hmm.'

'Ki-irsten?'

'How are things at the office?' she asked, changing the subject.

'You shouldn't be worrying about that,' her father replied.

'Oh please, let me worry about _something_. The biggest decisions I've made recently have been what take-out to have and what to watch on TV.'

'Well…' Caleb glanced at Sandy for confirmation that this was okay.

'Dad, Sandy, you're doing it again. I am capable of having this conversation. Sandy, don't you have things to sort out…case to prepare for?'

Her husband narrowed his eyebrows but took the hint, apparently excusing himself to the study but probably only really round the corner.

'Things are pretty good,' her father continued. 'We have a part-time CFO; Tim Harper and I've been dabbling.'

'Sounds like you're coping without me.' She kept her tone polite, impersonal, professional.

'If you want to come back you can.'

'You sure?' She couldn't help but ask; he wasn't exactly begging her to return or even demanding it.

'Would I be asking if I didn't?'

'I guess not…thank god. I've been bored out of my mind; daytime TV, trashy magazines, postal order catalogues… Please tell me you'll coerce Sandy into letting me come back this week. This past month has almost killed me.'

'With pleasure, there's nothing I like better than a good argument with your husband.'

His daughter frowned a patent Nichol frown and he relented. He was here to mend bridges and as accommodating as Kirsten was being at the moment he knew he was far from forgiven.

'Joking, joking. Actually I'm not, but I am with him on this one; you can come back but not full-time immediately.'

'What? When did you talk about this?'

'We've talked a few times.'

Kirsten looked shell-shocked. Her husband and her father actually _talking_. 'O-k so this 'keep-Kirsten-off-work' conspiracy, what does it mean?'

'Part-time indefinitely, fewer late nights and early mornings.'

'But…'

'No buts, Sanford and I have an agreement. I thought you'd be pretty happy.'

'I…I guess I am but, how is it gonna work? The company…'

'It's all sorted'

'But managing money, it's a five-day job.'

'Five-day yes, but not with twelve, fourteen, even sixteen hour days.'

'That's part of the job, it doesn't work otherwise.'

'It can.'

'There is no way I'm doing part-time.'

'Well, say…more flexible hours then. You'll have to fight with your husband about that one.'

'I still don't understand how this can work.'

'Well…' Caleb hesitated, knowing his daughter wasn't going to take the changes lightly. 'There'll be two of you; I'm keeping Tim indefinitely too.'

'Are you sidelining me?' the question burst out before she could stop it.

'No Kirsten, I'm just letting you have a life.'

Kirsten considered for a moment, her face mutinous, her heart fighting the other corner. It did feel as though she was being demoted, but, she reminded herself, it was what she secretly wanted. In those silent hours she'd promised herself she wouldn't compromise herself and her family again, not for work. It just shouldn't have taken the loss of her daughter to make her decide that.

'I can do full-time,' she pointed out, her voice a little bitter.

'I know that, I don't mean every other day or anything. Just, we'll take it slow, build back up and cut out the crap I made you deal with.'

'Dad!' The business-like façade dropped.

'It's true. You deserve proper hours with a start and a finish and a lunch break, that will no doubt be monopolised by your husband who has no concept of time management, but at least it'll be there. I know too often I sabotaged your breaks…'

'I think I can handle that,' she cut in before he could attempt anything like an apology. She didn't want to have to think about forgiving him.

And then there was Sandy to deal with. Agreement indeed!

-----

'I thought you were back at work today,' Seth said casually, surprised to find his mom home when he arose one afternoon mid-week. She looked up, a little guiltily, from the plants she was repotting. 'Uh, no…tomorrow.'

Ryan appeared beside them at this point, a frown creasing his forehead as he tried to work out whether he'd imagined Kirsten's briefcase standing ready in the hall earlier that morning. She felt his piercing blue eyes detect the lie and brushed the soil from her hands.

'You guys hungry? Seems to me like a late lunch is in order; your dad's in court all day so we won't see him any time soon. Hopefully he'll stop for takeout on the way home…' she was rambling but couldn't help it; desperate to escape their scrutiny. What would they think if they knew the state she'd been in that morning? She felt upset enough that Sandy had witnessed it with his big case hearing today. A case he really wanted to win but really hadn't given enough time to lately, because of her. And there she'd been, worrying him this morning when he really didn't need it.

---

Sandy brushed a gentle, if somewhat damp, kiss across his wife's lips, smiling as she scrunched her nose at the water droplets falling from his hair.

'You're getting me wet,' she moaned. Usually she loved being woken up like this; the cold salt water a small price to pay for his kisses. But today when she was already awake and cold with nerves it didn't help things. Of course Sandy didn't know how badly she'd slept last night; she'd lain still, determined not to wake him. He didn't know that when he crawled out of bed earlier that morning she was already awake, staring at the dawn creeping over the ceiling, fluttering her eyes shut before he noticed. There was a tight knot in her stomach and irrational thoughts rushing round her head. She felt like she might be sick. If she didn't know better she'd call it morning sickness.

'Well I have been surfing,' he answered. 'Clear my head you know.'

'You're worried about this case aren't you?' she asked, sitting up and pushing her own fears aside.

'Mmph' he answered non-comitantly, as though he could really deny it.

'Honey, you're gonna be fine,' she insisted, tugging him back down for another kiss and holding his face in her hands so she could look him in the eyes. 'You're gonna kick ass today my lawyer-man.'

Sandy smiled at the nickname she'd given him on his graduation from Law School. 'Don't say ass Kirsten,' he teased but the blue eyes, locked with hers, were serious and grateful. 'I better shower,' he'd said reluctantly and she had released him, flopping back against the pillow, wishing she could ask him for the same reassurance for today but not wanting to worry him.

'Honey, you're gonna be late,' he told her when he reappeared, surprised to see her still in bed. He heard her sigh and head for the shower. The warm water was comforting; she didn't want to get out. Didn't want to face the morning chill, the traffic on the way to the office, her father, the new CFO she had to share her job with, the whispers that were sure to whip around the building like wildfire on her arrival, the bottomless in-tray on her desk…the list went on.

She suddenly felt overwhelmed. What if she couldn't do this anymore? Kirsten buried her head in her hands, only for a minute, but it would be the moment Sandy chose to enter the bathroom. 'I brought you…' he began, hurriedly setting a napkin-swathed bagel on the sink when he saw her. 'Kirsten?'

'I'm fine,' she insisted, turning her face up under the spray. 'Just got soap in my eye.'

'Honey…'

Kirsten shook her head, climbing out the shower and avoiding her husband's eyes as she got dry. He didn't push it, brushing his teeth and pretending his wasn't watching his wife who was stood in their closet looking completely lost.

'You alright?' he asked through a mouth of toothpaste, the foamy mouth a comical contrast to his smart suit.

'I…can't decide what to wear.' Her voice was anxious, betraying the tears he knew were forming in her eyes. She pulled distractedly at the clothes in her closet, flipping along the rail and becoming increasingly panicked as she rejected things. 'I don't know,' she muttered frantically. 'I just don't _know_.'

'Hey, hey, it's okay,' he soothed, finishing up in the bathroom and standing behind her. 'You look gorgeous in everything and nothing.'

'That doesn't help Sandy,' she snapped. 'God, I'm sorry. Just ignore me.'

She headed back to the bedroom before the comforting hand reached her bare shoulder. Sandy glanced at his watch and bit his lip. He didn't have long if he was going to beat the traffic and he still had to find his lucky tie.

'You can go,' she said quietly from where she was sat hunched up on the edge of the bed, damp hair falling over her face, the slight tan on her slender body standing out against the white towel.

'And leave you like this?'

'I'm…I'm f-…' she struggled with the lie until her face crumpled, head dropping self-consciously. Sandy didn't hesitate in sitting beside the pathetic figure and easing the damp bundle into his arms.

'You'll get wet,' she protested through tears. 'I'm just being silly. I'm nervous, that's all.'

'Nervous? Why?'

'I don't know,' she admitted, fingers fidgeting absently with the towel, pulling at a loose thread and rubbing it between her finger and thumb.

'Kirsten, how long have you been doing this job? You could do it with your eyes shut…'

'I know, but…I-I…I don't think I'm ready to go back,' she admitted haltingly. Her husband drew back in surprise.

'But going back to work has been your main aim for weeks.'

'I can't,' she choked. 'I can't…'

'It's okay,' he soothed, 'you don't have to go now.'

'I do…this is stupid.'

'No it's not. It's the way you should have been in the first place rather than throwing yourself back into it so early on. You just take your time.'

'I'll go tomorrow,' she insisted.

'We'll see how you feel alright?'

Kirsten nodded and rubbed the tears from her face. 'I'm sorry. Now you're going to be late and I'll have put you off and…'

'I'll be fine but you're right that I need to go. You go back to bed for a little while, have a peaceful day and I'll be back as soon as I can…although that might be late this evening.'

'Okay.'

'I love you,' he said giving her a kiss and standing up.

'Wait!'

'What?' he asked, slightly confused when Kirsten stood up also rather than getting back into bed.

'Your lucky tie,' she said, taking it out of the dresser drawer and handing it to him. Her husband smiled. 'You're wonderful you know that?' Trust Kirsten to remember despite the state she was in. He really was lucky.

'I love you.'

'You're most wonderful wife in the word.'

---

---

There you go. Four more left.

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	27. Making Time

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Thanks for all the reviews so quickly. To reciprocate here is the next chapter!

Well there is a definite winding down feel to things now but you have bonding with each of her boys to look forward to still, and perhaps even with Caleb! Sorry it's a little short, it's just the way things panned out.

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Chapter 27: Making Time

There were good days and bad days. Some mornings she would wake, and although she was always met by the ceaseless thoughts of the baby, both babies actually, she would manage to force herself up before grief could engulf her. If she did that she could usually manage the rest of the day. Downstairs she would take the coffee Sandy handed her and lean gratefully against him as he stood by the counter, relaxing as his arm snaked securely around her. There she could watch Ryan as he did some last minute studying and let Seth's incessant chatter wash over her, breathing in the familiar scene along with the aroma of coffee. This was her life, her family. This was how it was meant to be, she was happy.

---

Other times, rare as it was these days, she couldn't bear the flood of emotions that hit her when she awoke, and it would take Sandy half the morning to coax her out of bed, or if it was a very bad day, out of the closet. Sometimes as she stood in the kitchen could almost see the baby in her highchair, Seth and Ryan pulling faces to make her laugh and Sandy vainly trying to spoon food into her smiling mouth. Those days she followed Kirsten everywhere and at night she would walk distractedly through the house hearing her daughter's cries. Even when Sandy came to find her, she would imagine she saw the little girl in his arms, blue eyes that matched Kirsten's own staring up at her father.

---

She made time in her life for all of them now. Family came first, no questions. Every so often she still rushed out of the house in a flurry of papers on a morning and sometimes important meetings ran late but she took a step back from her job. She loved it but now it had to balance. The time she would have taken off for the baby was re-arranged into her schedule; letting her be more flexible. When she did come back, a day later than planned, Kirsten found most of her fears were unfounded, particularly in the case of the other CFO. Tim Harper turned out to be a dapper gentleman in his mid-sixties, more interested in returning to his interrupted retirement with a job well done than stealing her position. With few family commitments and only the taste for an occasional round of golf as a hobby, he was on hand to finish up the out-of-hours business and often shoo her out the door when he deemed it time for her to go home. She was a self-confessed workaholic and although she couldn't completely beat it, she was learning to switch of for a while and just enjoy life. A life that was still sweet despite the bitterness.

-----

One day in late summer Seth had planned to take Summer sailing on the re-named Summer Breeze. That morning she'd called and Kirsten had watched as her son's excited face had fallen.

'What's up?' she asked as he hung up, trying not to sound too nosy.

Seth slumped onto the sofa, 'Summer can't come,' he muttered gloomily, 'she's got flu or something.'

'I'm sorry honey,'

'I wouldn't care, it's just that this was our last chance before she had to go to Washington with her dad. It was gonna be perfect; with a picnic and everything.'

Kirsten smiled; her son was turning into such a romantic, just like his dad. She was lost in thought when Seth spoke again.

'Hey mom, you don't want to come do you? Little bit of Seth-Mom bonding?' His tone was light-hearted but not as indifferent as he tried to make out.

'Well I'm not so sure I'll be much of a substitute,' she laughed, flattered by her son's new-found recognition.

'Substitute for what?' Sandy asked as he passed through, pausing to kiss Kirsten on the cheek.

'Summer,' she told him, 'she and Seth were going sailing but she's sick.'

'Tough luck son; Summer in a bathing suit,' he gave a low whistle causing Kirsten to dig him in the ribs. 'Oy!'

'Ow! Well your mother's even hotter so you've found a pretty good substitute.'

Seth rolled his eyes, 'Ew dad, so not what I wanted to hear.'

'Sorry son, but it's true. Want to switch? You can go to court and I'll take your bikini-clad mother on the boat all day?'

'Thanks dad, but The Kirsten and I are gonna spend some quality time, fully clothed.'

'Worth a try,' Sandy laughed and bent to kiss his wife again before leaving.

-----

'Hop in mom,' Seth called to Kirsten who was still stood nervously on the dock.

'Are you sure this is safe sweetie?' she asked worriedly, 'it doesn't look very strong…'

Seth resisted the urge to roll his eyes, 'It's a boat mom; it's made of metal.'

His mother bit her lip, 'Yeah but it moves by way of a scrap of tarpaulin and some string being blown by the wind.'

'Exaggerating much? We'll be fine ok, I can sail, you know I can sail and I promise not to capsize.'

'You jolly well better not or you're dead,' she told him, taking a deep breath and lowering herself into the dingy.

Seth cast off and Summer Breeze began to bob away from the quay. As soon as they were out of the harbour Seth had the sails up and they swept along. Kirsten watched the coastline and began to relax.

At least until Seth jibed.

'Duck!' he yelled as the boom swung violently across the small craft. Luckily Kirsten followed the instruction and was saved certain soaking and likely concussion.

'My god Seth,' she cried when the boat was calm again, 'could you please give a little more warning.'

'Sorry,' he chuckled, 'it just happened.'

She began to laugh as well, 'You told me you could sail this thing!'

'I can,' he vowed indignantly, 'that was a jibe.'

'A what?'

'A jibe; it's a bona fide sailing term, honest!'

Kirsten raised an eyebrow, 'It felt more like I'm-a-Cohen-and-I'm-not-in-control' to me.'

'Whatever mom.'

Kirsten revelled in the easy banter. It was a long time since she'd had such a conversation with her son. Usually their talk comprised of short dialogues;

---

'Can Ryan and I borrow the Range Rover?'

'If it comes back spray-painted again you're grounded until Christmukah.'

'Okay mom.'

---

'Ew, do you two _have_ to do that in here? I'm trying to eat.'

Embarrassed silence.

Protests from Sandy.

---

'How was school sweetie?'

'It was school mom, what do you think?'

---

They sailed for a long while, going pretty far out into the ocean, talking, laughing, teasing. Subjects ranged from Summer's rage blackouts to comic books, Captain Oats to Seth's favourite bagels, and more seriously, the baby and Sandy and Kirsten's relationship. Kirsten had no idea her son really noticed that much, let alone actually worried about it.

'I thought you were disgusted by your father and me,' she said after Seth had asked whether they were ok.

'I am, I mean impressionable teenagers should not have to suffer such gross displays of affection, particularly early in the morning, but…it's kind of reassuring,' he admitted, 'at least when you and dad are all over each other we know things are alright.'

'Oh honey,' Kirsten breathed, 'you shouldn't be worrying about things like that. We love each other.'

'I know, it's just, you were both working a lot and arguing and…'

'Things haven't been easy recently, even before the whole…baby thing, but we're working on it.'

'So you won't ever like, separate or anything?'

'No sweetie, no. It's not that bad, it's no where _near_ that bad. God can you imagine me without your father?'

'The words asphyxiatingly neurotic spring to mind!'

Kirsten reached out to gently smack her son, 'I know I fuss too much, I just can't stop mothering you. You grew up too fast.'

'I'm sorry,'

'What for? Growing up isn't your fault, I should be the one apologising.'

'No, I mean, I know we don't talk much anymore and I'm sorry if I upset you.'

'It's true I miss what we used to have but you're seventeen Seth, it's to be expected. It's not cool to like your parents.'

Seth was silent for a moment, opening his mouth to say something but not quite forming the words. 'I was…scared, really, really scared that night. I thought we were gonna lose you,' he said, faltering and staring down at the water. 'And don't know what I would have done. What any of us would have done.' Another pause, then, 'I love you mom.'

'I love you too sweetie,' she answered, her eyes brimming, somewhere inside this almost-man was her little boy and he loved her. That was all she ever wanted.

-----

---

The Review…an episode of the O.C. coming soon!

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	28. Two out of Fourteen

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

---

Well here I am again! Almost over - sniffs

---

Chapter 28: Two out of Fourteen

'Seth and I did some hanging out, how about we do something?' Kirsten asked Ryan hesitantly, sitting herself down on Ryan's bed. He looked up from the textbook laid open before him, 'I don't really know if I do anything you'd like?'

'You mean I wouldn't enjoy beating up water-polo players?' she questioned teasingly.

Ryan gave a bashful grin, 'Nah, probably not your thing,'

'Or burning down houses?'

That time he just gave her one of his infamous 'looks'.

'Joking, joking! Ok, what can we do? I would say we could look over some development plans together, but you're gonna be doing that in the summer anyway.' Ryan was planning on helping-cross-unofficially interning at the Newport Group. 'So…what do you get up to?'

'Um…I…play play-station…'

'I'm kinda banned from it after I managed to cause system failure on the first one we had.'

'Oh, ok not that,' Ryan agreed, suppressing a laugh, how could anyone crash a play-station?

'What else?'

'I watch films, I take Marissa shopping, I ride my bike, I listen to Journey…can you see I'm running out of ideas here? I study, I cook sometimes…hey!'

'No.'

'Yes.'

'No way!'

'Aw come on Kirsten, it'd be fun.'

'No it wouldn't, do you want me to burn down the house?'

'Can we stop with the house-burning references?'

'Sorry.'

'Let me teach you to cook something…we could make Seth eat it!'

Kirsten grinned, 'OK, something easy though.'

'How about cake? You can hardly go wrong with that.'

'You're on.'

---

It took Kirsten nine tries to bake something that vaguely resembled a cake. Her first attempt had resulted in a rather egg-shelly mess, the second involved a major measuring failure. (Yes pounds and ounces _are_ different Kirsten) and the others suffered from her complete and utter inability to either set the oven timer properly, grease cake-tins or mix ingredients.

Too wet, too dry, undercooked, overcooked, burnt to a crisp, sunk in the middle, stuck to the tin, crumbling on the cake rack; you name it, Kirsten had done it.

By the fourteenth effort they had run out of eggs, and sugar, and flour, and Ryan was beginning to suspect it was a lost cause. He watched wearily as his foster mother mixed the last of the ingredients, completely focused on her task, oblivious to the smudges of flour on her face and the way her tongue poked out the side of her mouth in concentration.

'This one is going to work Ryan,' she said brightly, flushing as she noticed his less-that-optimistic face. She'd said that each time for the past four hours.

She scraped the mixture into a tin, which she had remembered to grease this time, and was about to set it in the oven when Ryan stopped her. 'Don't open the door!' he exclaimed, 'You've still got one cooking in there.'

'Oh yeah,' she remembered distractedly, setting the tin down, 'that makes them sink doesn't it?'

Ryan laughed and lay his head down on the counter, 'Uhu.'

'Well I am gonna sit here and watch that cake till it comes out,' Kirsten told him decidedly, 'and then I'm going to do it again for the next one. These are _going_ to work!'

She suited action to words, sitting down on the floor, her back against the kitchen island and staring fixatedly at the oven.

'You know we have set the timer this time Kirsten,' Ryan said, settling himself beside her.

Kirsten smiled, 'I know sweetie; I just don't want it to go wrong. I don't trust it.

Ryan bit his lip, 'I don't think it's the timer that's the problem,' he said cheekily, squirming away as Kirsten prodded him.

'I admit it,' she said, 'I can't cook, but thanks for doing this Ryan, I had fun today.'

Ryan was silent for a moment, fighting the feeling of being out of his depth with the happy familiarity of the situation. 'I did too,' he said at last, 'Thanks.'

-----

Kirsten smiled broadly as Sandy wandered into the kitchen, 'I have a surprise for you honey,' she said.

'Really?' he asked seductively, kissing the back of her neck.

'I didn't mean like that and you know it,' she chastised, watching his face fall slightly, 'Ryan and I have been cooking…'

There was a nervous laugh from Sandy and a shriek from the hallway; 'WHAT?'

Seth had obviously overheard.

'What was that mom? You and Ryan…no, he wouldn't…he wouldn't do that to us. Would he dad? Oh my god he's violated the pact! Where is he? I'm totally gonna kick his ass…'

'Don't say 'ass' Seth,'

He rolled his eyes at his mother, 'You've been _cooking_ but I'm not allowed to say 'ass'?...RYAN!' Seth gave another shriek as his brother entered the kitchen through the patio door, 'What have you _done _man? You violated the pact.

'What pact?'

'The pact Ryan, _the_ pact!'

'Huh?'

'The oh-so-holy-we-three-Cohen-men-will-never-ever-let-Kirsten-cook pact,' Sandy informed him, sounding worryingly like Seth.

'Yeah and you broke it, so first I am going to get you and then I'll make dad sue you and _then_ you can eat whatever it is mom made.'

Ryan gave one of his trademark 'looks' that swept the entire kitchen, 'Correction,' he said grinning; 'We are _all_ going to eat what Kirsten's made.'

'No!' Seth howled whilst Sandy looked quietly aghast.

'You guys are so mean to me,' the cause of their distress whined.

Ryan spoke up again, 'Look we each made a cake, well, Kirsten made several but that's beside the point, all you have to try a slice of each and guess who made which ok?'

The Cohen men didn't look convinced.

Kirsten sidled up to her husband and began to nuzzle his neck, 'Please baby, _please_? It's a cake, how can that hurt?'

'Ki-ir,' Sandy moaned, 'this isn't fa-i-r. You know I can't resist you.'

'Ugh Dad, way too much information and a so not aesthetically pleasing visual,' Seth complained as his parents kissed.

They broke apart laughing, 'Well your father's in,' Kirsten declared smugly, 'Seth?'

'Please don't make me do this, please mom. Ryan? Dad?' Seth looked round desperately.

'Come on son, I have to,' his father chided.

'You have to eat it, you married her; it's like an unwritten rule.'

Kirsten glowered at her son, ignoring the puppy-dog look currently adorning his face, 'No cake, no car, ever,' she said dramatically.

'Wha-a-at? That's blackmail, that's so wrong, it's immoral; OMG my mother is actually evil!'

'She is Caleb Nichol's daughter,' Sandy muttered causing Ryan to snigger and the glare of 'The Kirsten' be directed at her husband.

'It's your choice Seth,' she said wickedly.

'Can it only be a very little piece?' he asked resignedly.

His mother pouted, 'Fine. You cruel son you.'  
---

Father and son both lifted a slice of cake to their lips, the former suppressing a shudder, the later very obviously not.

'You know if I die you'll have only yourself to blame,' Seth warned as he opened his mouth.

'I think I can live with that,' his mother replied flippantly.

'I'm too young to die,' he whimpered.

'Eat it Seth!'

'This is cruelty to children, that's what it is,'

'Just eat it,' Sandy ordered, munching on his own piece, 'It isn't that bad, actually it isn't bad at all…of course this could be Ryan's cake.'

Ryan and Kirsten exchanged glances as Sandy finished his mouthful and reached for the other slice. Seth still hadn't managed to bring himself to eat his.

'I could be the next Mozart, I could discover another galaxy, I could find a cure for cancer, but we'll never know…'

'Eat the damn cake Seth,' Ryan growled, laughing as a startled Seth shoved the cake into his mouth, chewing ferociously before swallowing with an exaggerated grimace.

Kirsten smiled, 'See, you're not dead honey,'

'Yet,' was Seth's reply

'Neither is your father and he's eaten both,'

'Yeah,' her husband replied, a puzzled look on his face, 'and both were pretty good. I can't tell any difference, you sure you baked Kirsten?'

She folded her arms across her chest, pretending to be offended, 'Yes I did.'

'I can't work it out either,' Seth put in, having finally tested the other cake, 'maybe the first one; it was a little darker on top.

'I say the second,' Sandy added, 'ok, own up.'

'You're both right,' Ryan said gleefully.

'What?' Sandy and Seth wore matching expressions of confusion.

Kirsten smiled proudly, 'I cooked _both_!'

Seth choked and ran for the bathroom while Sandy flung his arms around his wife, 'I am so proud of you baby. Ryan, you're a miracle-maker!'

-----

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Do something amazing today. Give a review.

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	29. Three Times Lucky

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

---

Obviously this isn't exactly smutty because of MIBTW's rating but I did extend things a little bit just to drive you mad hehe!

---

Chapter 29: Three Times Lucky

And then there were the times she spent with Sandy. Her new arrangement and the flexibility of him having his own practice meant there were far more opportunities for moments, stolen or otherwise. It added to the excitement if they knew they had a client meeting in an hour or they'd scratched their agenda for the afternoon. There had been one sultry, lazy evening in the hot tub when the boys were out, a few surprise visits to their respective offices, and most memorably, a crazy afternoon involving the deserted headland of a new residential development and the back of the Range Rover.

---

Sandy came home one night to an empty driveway and a silent house. The boys were obviously out and Kirsten appeared to not be home from work yet. He checked the machine but there were no messages saying she'd be late back. Disappointed he tossed his bouquets of flowers onto kitchen counter. There he suddenly noticed Kirsten's cell and a corkscrew; so she _was_ home.

He wandered over to the patio doors and was rewarded with the sight of his wife stretched out poolside, one hand trailing languidly in the water. Returning to the kitchen Sandy quickly shrugged off his suit jacket and stashed both their cell phones in the cutlery drawer (much to everyone's confusion later that evening). Kirsten was wearing a particularly tiny black bikini and he didn't want to be interrupted.

After kicking off his shoes he crept out onto the patio, scooping up some water as he approached Kirsten and flicking it at her. Her eyes flew open as the cool liquid touched her skin but her mouth curved into a smile when she saw him. 'Hey,' she murmured, half greeting, half protest.

'Boys out?' he asked, squatting down beside her.

'Yeah, they took my car; let's hope they don't go to the IMAX.'

Sandy chuckled 'How long for?'

'A while I guess; they're meeting Marissa and Summer,' she said, propping herself up onto her elbows.

He raised his eyebrows and Kirsten replied by grasping his tie and pulling him towards her. They began to kiss and Kirsten directed her attention to his shirt which soon lay redundant on the ground. Drawing back, Sandy glanced at his wife's precarious position, a wicked glint in his eyes. Kirsten was too intent on regaining his lips, which were tantalisingly just out of reach, to notice. He let his fingers skim over her bare skin, watching her tremble at the tender touch. As he reached her waist he gave her a surreptitious nudge which caused her to topple sideways into the pool. She resurfaced spluttering a moment later. 'Sanford Cohen you are going to _pay_!' she cried standing up in the water, her hands on her hips. Sandy eyed her appreciatively; the water running off her body made her slight tan glisten and that bikini was just begging to be removed. He stripped off his trousers and dived in after her.

The watery romp that followed was better suited to a couple of college kids than a married coupled with high-powered jobs and two teenage sons. Kirsten splashed Sandy; Sandy ducked Kirsten. He threw her; she chased him until he was breathless. Sometimes when he was caught she'd kiss him, other times he'd be bitten instead. Then he would have to fling her into the deeper water and so it began again.

'It'sss cold-d-d,' Kirsten complained when truce had finally been agreed. She chattered her teeth together dramatically.

'Aw honey, that can be easily remedied, Sandy declared, lifting her into his arms and wading across the pool. He deposited his wife in the hot tub, Kirsten pulling him in after her. Before he could remonstrate her mouth was over his and she was running her hands through his wet hair. Sandy reached for the bow of her bikini, tugging it gently while Kirsten drew back slightly to let it fall into the water. He trailed kisses along her collarbone as she struggled with his boxers, continuing down her chest and stomach. Kirsten writhed as he moved lower, deftly untying the briefs with his teeth. 'I can't believe this,' she moaned between kisses.

'Thanks,' Sandy gloated.

'I meant the fact we haven't been interrupted,' Kirsten replied teasingly.

'Mmmhmm,' he said, 'I'm going to forgive that comment because an argument would really spoil the mood.'

Kirsten smiled against his mouth, 'How about I make it up to you?'

---

Sandy heard someone approaching the door of his office and glanced up at the clock. It was too early for his 4.20 client and he wasn't expecting anyone else. 'Please don't be Caleb or Julie,' he thought distractedly, very pleasantly surprised to see his wife at the door. 'Here comes trouble,' flashed through his mind as Kirsten sauntered towards him, a mischievous smile playing about her lips.

'Hey baby,' he said as she perched herself on his desk, her skirt hitching up to reveal a length of shapely leg, 'what's up?'

'Nothing.'

'Really?' Sandy raised a doubtful eyebrow, 'You don't come to my office in the middle of the afternoon for nothing.'

Kirsten slid off the desk and moved behind her husband's chair. 'We-e-ll,' she said, bending round to kiss his neck and tug playfully at his earlobe with her teeth, 'I just thought I'd come visit…' The final word was heavily suggestive and Sandy sighed disappointedly, 'I'd love to honey,' he said, groaning as she tracked kisses towards his mouth, 'but I've got Mr Melrose in half an hour.'

Kirsten was on his lap by this time and she fixed puppy-dog eyes on his face, 'We could be quick,' she whispered.

'Thirty minutes is never long enough with you.'

Kirsten couldn't decide whether to pout or smile but did know she wasn't giving up. 'Is,' she argued.

'Is not.'

Kirsten kissed him slowly, 'Please?'

And again, longer this time, 'Please?'

Sandy felt his resolve weakening, 'Well…' he mumbled, kissing her back, 'it's not…urgent…maybe…I could…cancel.'

'_Please_?'

He reached for the telephone and dialled the client's number. 'Hello? Mr Melrose please…It's his attorney Sandy Cohen…Yes…I'm sorry about this…I'm going to have to…cancel…um…' Sandy faltered as Kirsten began to fumble with his fly, 'family…emergency…' he roughly grabbed her hand with his free one and she smothered a giggle. 'Could we reschedule?' He breathed a sigh of relief as she clambered off him and wandered round the office, closing the blinds and locking the door, his eyes following her.

'That's great, thanks again…bye.' Sandy set the phone back in the receiver and pretended to frown at Kirsten who had slid back onto his knee again. 'Do you know how hard that phone call was?'

'I can guess,' she said wickedly, expertly unbuttoning his shirt. Sandy lifted her onto the desk and tilted her backwards, pinning her beneath him but being careful not to crush her small frame. A number of case files slid towards the floor, scattering papers but neither of them noticed; preoccupied didn't even come close!

---

The phone rang and Kirsten reached across her desk to answer it; 'Kirsten Cohen,'

'Hey baby,'

'Hey,' Kirsten smiled into the phone at the sound of her husband's voice.

'What's your afternoon like?' Sandy asked, the innuendo was obvious.

'Depends what you have in mind,'

'You and me, not at the office…'

Caleb walked in and Kirsten immediately switched to work mode, 'That appears to be a satisfactory offer, I would of course need to do some preliminary calculations,'

'Naturally,' Sandy played along, used to the routine, 'however I don't know if I will be able to sustain the bid past this afternoon.'

'Well in that case I think I could be persuaded to push for an early acceptance.'

'You won't regret it,'

'So I take it you would like to see the…uh…development as soon as possible.'

'That would be good, is this afternoon convenient?'

'I should think so; I could meet you in about half an hour,'

'Sounds good,'

'Nice doing business with you,'

'The pleasure's all mine…or it will be.'

Kirsten hung up, concentrating on not blushing at Sandy's comment.

'Um, dad, I have to go out; show a client round one of the new sites.'

'I thought you were doing the Bruce Corporation meeting with me this afternoon Kiki,'

'I know but I'm sure you can handle it dad, this could be a major new deal.'

'Right then, but if Julie digs a hole and you aren't there to get her out of it, she's going straight back to design, company crisis or no company crisis.'

'Fine by me, now I've got to run,' and with that Kirsten hurried out of the office as quickly as her heels would allow.

---

'Here we are,' Kirsten declared, slowing the car to a halt in front of group of villas in varying stages of construction. 'I have the keys for the show home.'

Sandy raised his eyebrows, 'You wouldn't…'

'Says who?' Kirsten asked, her eyes bright.

'Someone's impatient this afternoon,' he teased, feeling small hand reach towards him.

'You saved me from the _most_ boring meeting with my dad this afternoon,' she murmured as Sandy leant over to kiss her.

'Happy to oblige,'

'So what should you be doing?'

'Court date was cancelled.' He grinned wickedly, '_such_ a shame, I can't think of a better way to spend the afternoon.'

'Take that back!' Kirsten ordered, clambering over the gear-stick to sit straddling her husband.

'Or what?' he asked, settling his hands at her waist.

'Or else,' she smirked and reached for the seat lever, causing him to tip backwards. Sandy chuckled and pulled Kirsten with him, her shrieks silenced by his kiss.

'You know this really isn't very comfortable,' he mused a while later.

'Uhu,' she his wife agreed, nibbling at his ear, 'what do you suggest?'

'How 'bout we relocate to the back? The seats are still down from the surfboards this morning.'

Kirsten looked incredulous, 'The back seat Sandy? How old are we?'

His eyes danced as he answered, 'Well right now I feel about 22!'

'The mail truck,' she realised, smiling at the memory of that crazy year in college and crawling into the back, 'it was about as big as the Rover.'

'So you fancy recreating our misspent youth?' he asked, following her.

'Just you try and stop me!'

---

'Oh my back,' Kirsten groaned a long while later.

'I think I've pulled something,' Sandy muttered.

Kirsten giggled, 'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea; we're not as flexible as we were twenty years ago.'

'I think I got that,' he replied,

'Next time we are so totally taking advantage of the show home.'

'That would certainly give your father another heart attack.'

'He'd never know…you are never _ever_ to say _anything_ or I won't sleep with you again!'

'You couldn't do that.'

Kirsten paused for a minute, 'Sadly that's probably true.'

Sandy laughed triumphantly, 'I love you.' He ran a finger down her face, 'So…'

'What?' Kirsten finished teasingly.

'Want to try it?'

'The show home?'

'Uhu, I heard it described as having a _'wonderfully appointed master bedroom with stunning ocean views, en-suite bathroom and king-size bed._'

'Well the last part does sound rather tempting…'

'I'm up for the guided tour.'

-----

Seth and Ryan were slaying ninjas when Sandy and Kirsten sneaked flushed and giggly through the door. It was definitely not stealth. Ryan noticed their messy hair, Kirsten's less-than-perfect lipstick and how the buttons of Sandy's shirt were done up crooked, and gave a sideways smirk. His brother however, was less perceptive; 'Good day at the office?' he asked, eyeing their matching smiles suspiciously.

'It was ok,' Sandy answered offhandedly.

Kirsten moved slightly to crush his toes, 'Owww!' he cried, 'What was that fo-oh, very good day yeah.'

Their son narrowed his eyes, 'I do _not_ want to know what's going on there!'

'Let's just focus on the ninjas Seth,' Ryan advised, hoping to defect the imminent hyperventilating rant on how-gross-it-is-that-my-parent-still-do-that-it's-just-so-_wrong_!

Sandy and Kirsten flashed him matching grateful glances as their dark-hair son returned to the game. Ryan grinned sheepishly and winked, stifling a laugh as Kirsten stuck her tongue out at him.

'Honey, what are you doing?' Sandy asked, catching sight of her protruding tongue.

'Nothing,' she said sweetly, clasping his hand and drawing him into the kitchen. 'What do you boys want to eat?' she called back, struggling to focus on their replies as Sandy pinned her against the counter and began to trail kisses along her collarbone.

'Sandy!' she whispered a breathless protest before catching his lips with her own.

'Mom! Dad! Stop it!' Seth shouted without turning round from the game. 'Just because we can't see you doesn't mean we don't know what you're doing. Phoning for Tai does not necessitate passionate clinches in the kitchen.'

There was a guilty silence before Kirsten was heard ordering the food.

'One day,' Seth declared, 'one day they will learn…I live in hope.'

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If I shut up for an entire chapter and didn't nag you for reviews would you do it?

Sadly I'm not that nice. And seeing as this is the PENULTIMATE chapter I think you should!'

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	30. Time Difference

**Maybe It's Better This Way**

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Here we are. Can you believe it? What a ride! From May 2005 when I first started writing to July 2006 when I first posted to now, October 2006. Thank you for being there the whole way some of you and thank you for the reviews. You have made it totally worth it and just blown me out of my tree with the number of responses. I never thought I'd get that many. Anyway, enough gushing, on with the final instalment of this tour de force!

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Chapter 30: Time Difference

Caleb strode into his daughter's office and dropped a bulky folder onto her desk. She looked up without comment, her face plainly saying 'What the hell is that?'

'De Vere project information,' Caleb told her, 'six months of negotiations and still no contract. We're flying out to New York tomorrow to try and get it settled.' Kirsten narrowed her eyes, 'Who's we?'

'Uh, me and you.'

'I thought you dealt exclusively with the De Vere stuff; not my job.'

'Change of plan. I want this thing off the ground and having the CFO there will hopefully demonstrate our commitment to this development, show that it's a priority.'

'I'm not going to New York.'

'What?'

'I don't want to.'

'Kiki, I mean, Kirsten, this is a very important deal; take a look at the information.'

'I know; De Vere hotel and leisure complex, luxury villas, golf course, marina, you name it, it's got it.'

'So you do know about it.'

'Dad, I am the CFO, I did do the costings.'

'Well as CFO you have to go, I want you there.'

'Would it kill you to say please for once?'

Caleb looked startled and Kirsten continued, 'You know, an occasional please and thank you, some sign that you notice the work I've done, that I'm doing the right thing, would mean a lot more than my paycheque, more than my last rise.'

Her father was still lost for words.

'To let me know I did the right thing being here; giving up my life in Berkeley for this, changing who I am, selling my soul, turning back to everything I fought against. Upsetting my husband, risking my marriage, alienating my son. Sometimes I wonder whether it's all worth it.'

'I never knew you felt like that,' Caleb stuttered out.

'Yeah well, welcome to the real world; people who actually have doubts and insecurities.'

'You never used to appreciate my opinion. The last time I offered it you did the opposite.'

'I was a teenager, a young person with my own mind. I wanted my own life. Now is different.'

'Well…for the record, I appreciate everything you've done. The Newport Group wouldn't be where it is today without you and to be frank, I need you there tomorrow…please?'

Kirsten hated to give in but this was a big step for her father and she felt happy. Her father had actually made her happy rather than upsetting or exhausting her. 'Thanks dad,' she mumbled, biting her lip, 'So what time are we leaving?'

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The father and daughter double act were back on the Newport Group's jet flying back to California after a successful two days on the East coast. Kirsten's charm and clear intelligence coupled with Caleb's shrewd business knowledge and prestige had finally swayed the board of directors of the De Vere corporation. The show was most certainly on the road with construction and landscaping beginning the following week. Caleb was satisfied with the deal and reclined contentedly, sipping a bourbon on the rocks. Business was good and although things were still strained, he was forging a semblance of a relationship with his daughter again. The day before they left they'd had an actual conversation, or rather Kirsten had told him how she felt without yelling at him. Or throwing things, he thought ruefully.

She was dozing in her seat, or perhaps just pretending to so as to avoid talking. She looked very young when she was sleeping Caleb mused. Not a highflying businesswoman; the youngest and best CFO the Newport Group had ever had. Not a married woman with two almost grown-up children. But more like his little Kiki. Before she'd rebelled against him, left for Berkeley and met that good-for-nothing…no, his name was Sandy. He was a good, successful man who worshipped his daughter. Plus, Kirsten loved him, had done for more than twenty years. Maybe he should try to accept him at last. God, the man had done enough for him amidst the sarcastic comments and joke-veiled insults. Accept him as a man, an excellent lawyer, a wonderful husband, the father of his grandchildren, the love of his daughter's life. Kirsten opened her eyes at this point but didn't remark on her father's scrutiny. She was still quiet, he reflected. Although the sad, drawn look that had become so disconcertingly familiar had faded, she wasn't the old salt-and-pepper Kirsten. The verve and fire was dampened and her telling eyes often stared right through you, their depths opaque; a pale sky blue.

'You alright Kik-Kirsten?' Caleb asked. He was trying to break the 'Kiki' habit but it was proving difficult. Old habits die hard, especially for an old dog like Caleb Nichol.

'Yeah.'

'Thanks for coming.'

'It's fine.'

'We did a good job today.'

'You can stop with the small talk dad.'

'I was hoping we could talk…big talk…?'

'Not interested.'

'I'm sorry Kirsten.'

'Isn't everyone.'

'You know I've meant every apology.'

'Nice to know.'

'Kirsten!' Her father snapped, immediately regretting it as she turned decisively in her seat to look out the window.

'I've forgiven you so you can stop grovelling. I've accepted that for once I can't blame something totally on you.'

'Thank you.'

'I would if I could but I can't so let's just drop the subject.' She sat back and closed her eyes again, Caleb watched her again, wanting to talk but worried about disturbing her.

'What would you have called her?' he ventured a while later. Kirsten stiffened but didn't move. 'What does it matter? She's gone.'

Caleb didn't have a reply and the cabin lapsed into tense silence again as the plane began to descend.

'Kassandra,' she said suddenly, 'Kassandra Katherine Cohen.'

'Cs or Ks?' Caleb asked tentatively.

'Two Ks and a C, for me, Sandy and mom.'

'She would have liked that.'

It was Kirsten's turn to be unable to answer.

She did not cry in front of her father.

She did _not_ cry in front of her father.

A burning throat, damp eyes and surreptitious sniffing did not count.

Her father pretended not to notice, changing the subject. 'I thought I might come over this weekend, take my grandsons out.'

'Your grand_sons_?' she asked in disbelief.

'Yes, I thought it was something good I could do; recognise Ryan as a member of the family. I know it's a case of a band-aid for a bullet wound but I thought you might like it.' Caleb said hurriedly.

'I appreciate it dad.'

'I'm afraid I'm still working on Sandy.'

Kirsten smiled, she didn't know if her father would ever come to terms with Sandy being his son-in-law; he was just too much the opposite of everything Caleb had wanted. Although she hated it she knew she and Sandy could live with it; they had done for the last twenty years. It was Caleb's refusal to treat her second son with anything other than distrust and contempt that upset her most. Now it seemed he was going to swallow his pride. This had to be a first.

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Kirsten arrived home dishevelled and jetlagged but feeling happy. Perhaps things would go back to normal between her and her father, no not that, better even, hopefully. Whatever happened she wasn't going to think about it now; it was the weekend. She was tired and very glad to be home with her three boys, they were the ones who made it her home.

She was on the top step by this time, about to open the door when it did so before she touched it. There stood Sandy, grinning delightedly at his wife. Kirsten smiled back wearily. 'Oh I missed you,' she murmured, letting her travel bag and briefcase drop onto the step as Sandy pulled her towards him. She ran her hands through his hair, their kiss gaining momentum until there was a shout from the kitchen. 'Break it up there,' Seth was yelling, 'the door is _open_, the neighbours will start complaining. This is a gated community not a playboy mansion-ow!'

Ryan had obviously hit Seth.

Sandy broke away and reached for Kirsten's luggage. 'Continue this later?' she asked, slapping his ass cheekily as he bent over.

'Of course…if you're not too tired.'

Kirsten stuck her tongue out.

'But first, come into the kitchen.'

'You're being awfully mysterious,' she replied, slipping her hand into his.

Their sons were sat on the kitchen island, Ryan looking up expectantly, Seth whimpering and rubbing his arm melodramatically. Kirsten swooped in to hug them both before they could escape. 'Honey,' Sandy said finally, having enjoyed the sight of his sons trying to squirm away from Kirsten's kisses, 'we have something for you.' He nodded towards the table on which were two brightly wrapped gifts.

'For me?' she asked, her eyes alight with childlike excitement. Sandy nodded and she hurried across the kitchen followed by her family. 'That one's from me,' Sandy told her as she gently tore the paper off the first package, 'but it was Ryan's idea really.' Kirsten paused to smile at her son before tugging a little rose tree from the wrapping. She exclaimed at the pretty pastel shade of the petals and bent to read the label.  
_Rose **K**assandra, seasonal flowering, enjoys dappled shade  
_Sandy had changed the C of Cassandra on the label to a K.  
'Oh Sandy,' she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Her husband placed a comforting hand at the small of her back and she took a deep breath, picking up the second present. Once it was unwrapped she found herself holding a small garden statue. The figure was that of a kneeling child angel. A silver plaque was fixed to the base bearing the words.  
_Kassandra Katherine Cohen  
Always in our hearts_  
'Ryan bought the angel first,' Seth said, realising his mother was fighting tears again, 'and dad the rose so I had to come up with something, result; the plaque. Is it ok? I mean, I thought it might make it more of an obvious memorial but if that's not what you want…' he trailed off, unsure of her reaction.  
'It's to say we've made peace, not forgotten,' Ryan said quietly.  
'We know that today…' 'Would have been my due date,' Kirsten finished for her husband, her voice cracking slightly. 'Yeah. I wasn't sure whether to say anything…so, thank you for doing this. She smiled through her tears, 'I have such wonderful boys,' she declared shakily, 'the best. I love you.'  
'Cohen-clan hug,' Sandy declared. They all crowded round Kirsten who realised just how much she had in relation to what she'd lost.  
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'You know I never thought I'd say this, I still miss her, I'll always miss her, and the other one too, but…' Kirsten murmured that night as she lay cuddled in Sandy's arms, 'but maybe we are going to be okay.'

'Of course we are. I'm even sure we can do better than that.'

'You're such an optimist but perhaps you're right. And maybe it's better this way.'

Her husband tightened his arms around her and she sighed contentedly, 'You, me, Seth and Ryan.'

'Maybe it is,' he agreed, 'maybe it is.'

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The End

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That's it folks! Thanks for reading…please leave a review…and also let me know what I should write next. There's a list somewhere on my lj: ansy underscore pansy. Although I gotta remind you that I've just started uni so I won't be writing as much for a while! Love y'all!

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